


Encounter

by LadyLattice



Category: Togainu no Chi
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Romance, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-22
Updated: 2016-01-22
Packaged: 2018-05-15 11:38:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5783989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLattice/pseuds/LadyLattice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Akira encounters Shiki in the streets of the neutral zone, and upon catching the dark man's interest, everything becomes far more complicated than either had initially intended.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Encounter

It was always the same. The rhythmic clacking of my boots on rain-washed asphalt caused the vermin to scatter like the cockroaches that they are, shouting desperate warnings to enemies and allies alike, announcing my presence. I never went out on these dark streets merely to rid this pitiful place of the filth that crawled through the gutters, spouting nonsense about winning Igura and killing Il-Re. If they couldn't or wouldn't face me here on open turf, how did they expect to defeat me in the coliseum? In my coliseum? Weaklings such as these are scarcely worth my time and are certainly not worthy of death by my blade. I was hunting for bigger game, and if they happen to impede my sport with their presence, they will be eliminated as a nuisance. For I always kill without prejudice. These dogs deserve to be put down like the strays that they are; yet like the hydra, the demise of one simply sprouts two more, even more pitiful than the last. They are revolting in every way.

My blade sliced smoothly through two more men, their veins throbbing with line, sputtering and whining their last words as they struck the ground, their blood swirling gracefully into puddles on the asphalt. I flicked my wrist, ridding my katana of the red liquid that was, only moments ago, pulsing wildly through their veins as they scrambled away in fear. There was nothing satisfying or interesting in the expressions that they wore as they died; only pleading terror, befitting of the lowly scum that they undoubtedly were. I could see the shadows of many as they scrambled frantically into alleys and in the direction of the hotel in the neutral zone, one of the few places where they thought they could find sanctuary. Yet they have forgotten that I pay no heed to their distinctions of what is neutral or what is not, for there is no one to enforce such petty policies upon me.

I stopped my advancement for a moment, spotting the outline of a figure who seemed to be approaching me at a run, glancing around wildly as if in pursuit of someone. A smirk began to spread across my face, eyes narrowing with amusement and intrigue. "How interesting," I spoke aloud to the darkness.

Suddenly he seemed to become aware of my presence, stepping away clumsily and searching for some kind of escape; I couldn't help but chuckle quietly to myself, his boldness was fascinating nonetheless. I assessed him from a distance. He seemed to have ceased his panicking, and appeared to adjust his stance, ready for combat. Though I could only see his silhouette due to the streetlights that illuminated the darkness behind him, I could tell that he was lean, probably several years younger than myself, and fighting fit. This could very well become an interesting encounter; he was not vermin like the rest, but that did not mean that I would refrain from taking his life.

"Shiki," he said, voice deep but soft. "Shiki," he repeated, more boldly, his words gaining confidence. I said nothing in response but began to approach him once again, my prowling steps long and regular, the sounds of my boots on pavement echoing throughout the now silent streets, bouncing between the facades of dilapidated buildings. It was impressive that he held his ground as I drew closer to him, but I could now see his face in the limited scope of the streetlamps. His face was framed by shaggy grey hair, and his eyes were an arrogant, icy blue that I found to be most intriguing; yet his slightly parted, panting lips betrayed the confident coldness in his eyes. He was handsome, that was for certain, and even though he wore a heavy coat and fitted jeans that concealed his body, I knew that he was equally impressive beneath those layers of deceptive fabric. Everything about the boy was oddly appealing.

I stopped about three strides from him, the exact distance that would allow my katana access to his jugular, assessing him with interest and meeting his frigid, distant gaze with my own. He never attempted to flee, but he was unconsciously leaning his body away from me as we stood, face to face, in complete silence. I wasn't sure if I should commend him for his bravery, or scold him for his stupidity by allowing him the honor of dying by my blade.

He seemed startled when I spoke, "You. I've seen you, dog. I believe I allowed you to live once. Do you wish for me to take your life so badly?" His expression quickly returned to the arrogant glare that I found so alluring, yet simultaneously infuriating. When he refused to respond and my patience began to wear thin, I raised my arm, the dull edge of my blade resting against the underside of his chin and causing him to shudder noticeably. "Why do you not run like the rest of the rats? Are you not afraid? Do you not fear the man who holds your life in his hands?"

Still I was met but nothing but his glare, his crystal eyes piercing through thick eyelashes. "I do not fear you," he said, his voice low and as equally frigid as his gaze. My red eyes narrowed as I stood quietly, momentarily contemplating the most suitable means by which to punish the dog before me for his blatant insolence. I was scarcely able to come to a conclusion when I felt his foot roughly impact my chest, knocking me backwards with surprising force. My boots ground into the slick asphalt, quickly recovering as I rose calmly to my feet, adjusting my coat and shifting my grip on the hilt of my katana. He might have been impressively fast, but his strength, skill, and speed were still lacking in comparison to mine. Regardless, he provided me with a chance to enjoy myself, and I would not waste such an opportunity, though this little farce would result in his death soon enough. I could do nothing to suppress the smirk that tweaked the corners of my lips.

"My friend Rin," he began, his voice growing louder and bolder through panting breaths, "he came after you when the others said that you were here; what did you do to him?"

"Hmm? I would have extinguished his life immediately, but his blood has not tainted my blade." He seemed unsatisfied with my response, and took several aggressive strides in my direction, producing a blade which had been concealed in a sheath behind his back. I easily resisted his assault, the dagger sparking as it struck the side of my katana. Smirking slightly, I pushed him away forcefully, swinging my blade's scabbard and striking his unbalanced legs from beneath his body, watching as his back impacted the wet asphalt with a heavy thud. He clutched the back of his head with a groan, panting and mumbling curses as he used his free hand in attempt to scramble to his feet. I allowed him to regain his stance before gracing his side with a solid kick, causing his shoulder to slam roughly into a shop window, spider webs of cracks sprawling out from the impact. Remarkably, he managed to avoid the following punch, my gloved fist easily shattering the fractured storefront, shards of glass tinkling to the ground with crystalline tones. I retorted with yet another kick, causing him to stumble and fall as the low wall beneath the shattered window caught the backs of his knees, his palms flowing red with blood as he quickly recovered, hands landing squarely on the broken fragments.

I watched him scramble to his feet, retreating from my slow, measured advance until his back struck a wall. It was nearly silent, save from our panting breaths and the grinding of shattered glass into the ground beneath my boots. Regardless of his apparent defeat, his expression never changed, never adopting the ugly face of fear that most of my victims wore during their final moments. He remained steadfast, and it was clear to both of us that unlike his body, his spirit would never be broken. However, the concept presented itself as an interesting challenge.

Our eyes maintained a fierce connection as I strode towards him, pressing the flat, frigid steel of my blade across his pale throat, tilting his head back and exposing collarbones that were framed by lean, muscular shoulders. I could not resist the urge press my body against his, to remind him of his complete inferiority in comparison to me. I wanted to see fear spark in those icy eyes, to see him begging me for release while I tormented him like a cat with a mouse.

Stepping nearer, I traced the fingers of my free hand along the smoothness of my coveted blade, grazing the warmth of his neck as I gripped his jaw, forcing him to look at me directly. I couldn't suppress a grin as I leaned into him, cheeks grazing, our grey and black hair tangling together as I spoke lowly into his ear, "Your eyes are still dangerously arrogant. I'm sure I could manage to fix that, dog." He tensed at my words, making futile attempts to pull himself free, but my grip merely tightened as if he was a rabbit in a snare. "Why do you struggle? I'm offering to spare your life for a few pleasant moments longer." I let my lips graze his jaw and neck, sliding down to tantalizing collarbones, where I placed an aggressive bite. I laughed as he sucked in a desperate breath and strained once more against my touch, "What do they call you, stray? Speak plainly."

He made several breathy attempts at speech before managing, "Akira."

I hummed in response, trailing my tongue across the bruise blossoming from the bite, before repeating, "Akira." The name tasted sweet, like the honeyed aftertaste left behind by a sip of hot tea, and we both tensed at the sound. But not so out of fear or anticipation; this tension was different, and oddly alluring. "Well then, Akira," I teased, savoring the flavor of the word, "what do you plan to do now?"

His body seemed to swell slightly, as if drawing in a very deep breath and never exhaling, so we stayed, simply sitting in frigid silence as he contemplated his next movement. I chuckled lowly to myself as I spoke into his ear, my voice purring in the quiet, scarcely more than a whisper, "It's alright, you can release that breath you've been holding so diligently, I've decided not to kill you." Akira surprisingly obeyed, his icy eyes closing and his well-built frame shuddering as his lungs emptied, his weight leaning against the wall behind us. "Very good," I murmured through a smirk as I placed my lips heavily against his jugular, "now let me give you another form of release." He tensed again as I hummed my satisfaction, my hand falling down his body and coming to rest between his legs, palm cupping the area where a tentative heat was beginning to puddle.

He attempted to avoid my touch, forcing his body tighter against the cold cinder block wall in an effort to free himself and wrenching his frigid eyes closed in desperation. I suspected that he was beginning to feel it against his will, the tantalizing arousal that seeped into his blood, spreading like a poison that one could never resist, pooling in his groin. My body and hands sought to coax him free of his uncertainty, as drawing him into willing submission despite his initial resistance would be the ultimate exhibition of my dominance. And I could not possibly deny myself the physical touch of such delicious prey.

I massaged him lightly, my palm welcoming the increasing tautness that was spreading across the front of his jeans, and my ears savoring the miniscule moans which were beginning to slip involuntarily between his lips. His hips pressed forward in desperate desire for contact as I removed my hand, fingers trailing up his jacket, the rough texture of the zipper rumbling beneath my fingertips. Grazing across his chest, the chills he felt at the contact rose in bumps under my touch as I moved to grasp his chin tightly, pulling him into a surprisingly gentle kiss, our lips ghosting across each other. I pressed our lips together again, more forcefully, and held him roughly, waiting for him to surrender to my ministrations and return the kiss. My tongue traced the undulations of his lips, asking for access which I knew that he wanted to give; yet his stubbornness remained annoyingly persistent, and he denied my advances. Growing weary of patience, I shoved my knee in between his thighs, applying the pressure that he was so subconsciously craving, eliciting from him a gasp and a beautifully lewd moan.

I smirked into our kiss, slipping my tongue casually through his slightly parted lips and entangling it with his own, beginning a sensual battle for dominance. He enthusiastically accepted the challenge, roughly returning the embrace with dancing lips, tongue entwining with mine as our panting breaths mingled, sweet with the flavor of kisses. I was immensely pleased when I felt his strong hands begin to wander, one curling tightly into the fabric covering my chest, the grasp clingy and desperate as he pulled me against his chest. The other ran up my back, outlining the arcs and ridges of the muscles of my shoulders with gentle touches before sensually weaving long fingers into my dark hair, his short nails scratching lightly into my scalp. Moaning softly, I cursed myself for my weakness, determined to regain control over the situation, seeking to remind this dog of his true place.

He froze as I began to slide the flat, icy steel of my katana over his skin, freeing his throat from the constraints of the contact and dropping the blade, the sword standing erect as the point pierced easily into the floor. His eyes, which moments before had been clouded heavily with lust, shone sharply with surprise as they darted from my eyes to the weapon and back, seemingly surprised that I was confirming my lack of intention to kill him. One of my hands groped him again between his legs, encouraging a dramatic gasp and delicious moan as my fingers traced his body, my other hand running over the warm flesh of his throat. I moved my lips to the wings of his collar bones, tongue occasionally flicking across small patches of exposed skin as I left a trail of bites along his jaw before taking his lip aggressively between my teeth. He reciprocated, kissing me roughly as he pulled me desperately close, straining to quell his thirst for contact as his fingers began to pry at my belt with greedy urgency.

"Now, now, Akira," I laughed as I hissed into his ear, my smirking lips grazing his neck lightly as I spoke, "I hope you understand what you're starting by doing that." He merely growled in response, fingers again occupying themselves with tugging at the leather band slung lowly across my hips. I could do nothing but comply with his demands now that he had neglected to heed my disclaimer; so I would give him what he wanted, regardless of the harm that might befall his specimen of a body. But that could not be helped.

Attacking him with renewed vigor, my lips violently assaulted his own as my fingers gripped tighter around his jugular, the entanglement of my tongue with his smothering his attempted words of rejection. My other hand began to swiftly remove his jacket and belt, casting them carelessly to the floor as I began to free his arousal from the confines of the denim that was growing unbearably tight across his hips. His fingers flew to mine, clawing desperately in a failed attempt to slow my advances, yet I couldn't help but feel his sudden onset of modesty to be wickedly arousing. I roughly slapped his hand away, trapping them in one of my own and pinning them against the wall above his head, the stretch pulling up his shirt enough to teasingly reveal toned abdominals that descended in a sculpted "v" down into the waistband of his jeans. Attracted like a moth to a flame, my free hand drifted beneath his shirt, eliciting a gasp and a slight wince as my cold fingers traced each ridge like braille, savoring each anxious twitch of the taught muscles of his stomach and chest before quickly removing the fabric in a single swift movement. "What the he-?!" he began to retort, though he was quickly silenced by the violence of my gaze, my eyes slowly absorbing the sight of his body as I looked over his naked chest hungrily.

"You've been so quiet, dog. So why do you bark now?" I growled into his ear, my smirking voice low with frustration and lust as I gripped his throat again, throwing him roughly to the floor.

He grunted at the impact, arching his bare back away from the cold floorboards in fruitless avoidance as he hissed at me, eyes regaining their look of anger and arrogance. "Bastard," he spat while I knelt over him, taking in the sight as I slowly removed my coat, casting it to the side before removing my gloves, my teeth aiding each hand in slipping free. My fingers traced his lips, encouraging him to welcome them in and wet them with his tongue, but he visibly gritted his teeth, turning his cheek to me defiantly. Growling at the rejection, my hand instead moved to weave itself into his thick grey hair, fingers curling in tightly before lifting his head and promptly slamming it back into the floor. "Shit!"

My gaze darkened as he looked at me angrily, moving to clutch the back of his skull. "Suck, Akira." The tone of my statement must have conveyed my message sufficiently, as his eyes widened briefly before taking my fingers between his lips, wrapping each one sensually with his tongue. The warmth of the touch gave me chills despite the heat, and his tongue was nimble as he traced my digits with the tip, as if trying to taste my identity through my fingerprints. He nipped at my fingers as I freed them from his mouth, satisfied with the results of his ministrations as I smoothly rid him of the remainder of his garments, bumps rising on his soft skin at the chill.

I wasted no time in moving my digits to his entrance, my need growing more urgent as the result of my own arousal became increasingly more painful, still trapped within the confines of my unforgiving leather pants. His shock was apparent as his body flinched aggressively and moved to restrict any further movement of my fingers. Angry, I slapped his hands away and above his head, my elbow pinning one arm to the floor while my hand roughly gripped the other, my forearm resting heavily across his throat. I leaned down to him, my chest hovering just above his own, and bit his shoulder violently as I pressed one finger into the warm constriction of his entrance, savoring his gasp and his body's obvious confusion. Akira squirmed beneath me as I began to move, my finger curling and flexing rhythmically before I added yet another, coaxing another pained yelp from the man.

"Hurts… like hell," he grumbled defiantly between panting breaths, "stop this. Shiki, stop. Dammit."

I couldn't conceal the amusement in my tone as I responded, "Relax and it'll get better. Soon you'll be begging me not to stop."

His scoff earned from my lips a low, dark laugh, which encouraged yet another bitter, breathy reply of "Fuck you." There was nothing that could have suppressed the smirk that unzipped itself across my face as I curled my fingers, grazing a certain bundle of nerves that elicited a lewd moan and violent shudder from the man beneath me. Satisfied with his reaction, I performed the movement again as I released his arms and lowered my lips to his ear, gracing his neck with kisses and bites that left bruises blooming over the smooth skin.

"Now beg for me, Akira."

I could see his member twitch at my words, and moaning loudly, he pressed himself against me eagerly as I added another finger to the stimulation inside him, simultaneously freeing my own arousal and grasping it hungrily. Striking the bundle of nerves one last time, I removed my fingers, earning a whimper as his body writhed beneath me, vehemently rejecting the abandonment. He tensed and froze instantly as I aggressively replaced my fingers with my pulsing, needy member and shoved myself inside of him roughly, pausing with a groan and savoring the tightness and depth. Finally, he released the breath that he had been holding so desperately, and I could feel his body relaxing around me, encouraging me to move, finding an angle that caused us both to moan freely.

We continued this way for a while, his hips rising to meet each of my thrusts, the heat of impending release beginning to puddle in my lap, the searing warmth as torturous as it was enticing. I claimed Akira's lips in a rough kiss, our tongues tangling mindlessly, fueled by lust and anticipation as he bit my lip, responding to the touch of my hand on his arousal. His head dropped back against the floor with a moan as I began to stroke him, edging him towards his release as my hand rose and fell, twisting lightly with subtle flicks of my wrist. The haze of my thoughts cleared for a moment as I strained to comprehend the breathy words that he muttered between the symphony of moans and sighs that paraded through his lips.

"Close, Shiki… I'm close," he panted, his voice whiny and desperate. "Please, make me come. Please."

"Hmm," I chuckled lowly, his words sending heat pulsing violently to the area between my legs, "you sound delicious when you beg, Akira. Do it again."

He growled in response, frigid eyes glaring at me from behind the grey fringe that was clinging to his face with sweat, and grabbed my hips, pulling me deep into him and holding me there, moaning lowly. Freeing me, I repeated the movement, plunging into him deeply, feeling his body tremble around me as his muscular arms snaked about my neck, clinging to me desperately. I could sense that we both were near our climaxes, so I began to move urgently, striking the bundle of nerves inside him with frightening precision until I could feel him begin to quake. My hand closed around his member as he released, shuddering as his muscles tensed in ecstasy, constricting my arousal and leading to my own orgasm.

I could feel my body becoming heavy as I released into him, his bodily heat gladly welcoming my own as we lay in silence broken only by stray moans and heaving breaths. Akira untangled his arms from my neck and allowed them to fall to his sides, his hot, damp skin slapping as it struck the coldness of the worn hardwood floors. After watching him for a moment, I quickly composed myself, cleaning up and redressing myself despite my lingering exhaustion from my recent sexual release. No matter the circumstance, he was still a dog, and would forever need to be reminded of his place, and his complete inferiority to me. The marks that I left on his body stood as evidence for this, claiming him as mine and declaring that it was me to whom he fell and succumbed. I owned this stray now, and everyone would do well to remember that fact.

Retrieving my katana and slipping the blade into its scabbard, I glanced over my shoulder to the sculpted, grey-haired man as he struggled through the pain to redress himself. I stalked over to him, standing behind him as I placed the sheathed sword flat across his collar, pulling him backwards until he leaned into my chest. "You belong to me now, Akira," I purred into his ear, licking a bead of sweat from the ivory skin of his neck and biting down lightly, "and I will make sure every piece of filth in this God forsaken town knows it." Sighing, he laid his head back against my shoulder, merely nodding his ascent as I smirked with satisfaction. "I'll be sure to find you the next time I wish to play, pet," I said darkly, lowering my blade and turning to leave, my coat swaying around my calves like a shadow in candlelight.

"Shiki," he said in a voice that gave me chills. I froze, pivoting on one heel, katana in hand, and facing him directly waited for him to inform me of why he had insisted on stopping my exit. Suddenly I was grabbed by my coat, the fingers of a strong hand curling tightly into the leather as Akira drug me roughly into a kiss, his lips eager and tongue seeking entrance, tying knots with mine. Soon we parted for breath, staring at each other, our faces each mirroring the surprise of the other, our minds reeling from the unexpected passion in the kiss. A crooked smile began to slip across his face, and he began to chuckle lightly, earning from me an extremely irritated glare. "I might be yours, but that also means that you're mine," he stated, before turning and, without another word or backwards glance, strolled out of the building and into the night.


	2. Second Encounter

I could feel my false confidence waver as I turned my back to the dark man behind me as I strode through the shop door and into the darkened street, the glass from the window he shattered crunching under my sneakers. His red eyes were burning into my back, making me uneasy as I rounded the corner, unconsciously lengthening my stride into a jog as I made my escape. Shiki was dangerous, frigidly lethal, and predictably unpredictable; there was never any guarantee that the shadow of a man would elect to spare one's life. And considering the boldness of my final challenge, that heated parting kiss, there was a significant chance that the man who had only moments ago claimed my body as his own, was ghosting on my heels, ready to end my life.

My fear was beginning to boil again, low in my stomach, the realization that I may have infuriated the most powerful man in Toshima easily overpowering the feeling of violation and dirtiness that coated my body like a film. I found myself sprinting blindly through the streets, icy air stabbing into my lungs as my body steered itself towards the hotel, the illusion of safety, as irrelevant as the neutral zone was to Shiki, drew me in like iron to a magnet. If he had set his murderous sights on me, there was nothing in this hell hole of a town that could save me.

I rounded a corner at a full sprint, glancing over my shoulder as I flew down the alley, narrowly avoiding a collision with several trash cans that had likely been toppled during some bloody brawl. Recovering with a noticeable lack of gracefulness, I threw my arm against the gritty dampness of the brick wall to my right, trusting gravity and the reliable solidity of the building to save me from the failing strength of my legs. Despite my panting and the crackle of my shoes grinding on the wet, worn asphalt beneath my feet, I could faintly hear the echo of approaching footsteps. Once noticed, the nearly imperceptible sound became seemingly amplified to a painfully deafening volume, as if the existences of myself and the haunting noises that pursued me were the only remaining things in the known universe. The steps resounded through the air with an unsettling regularity, a rhythmic pattern so ideal that it rivaled the perfect monotony of a metronome, casually counting the remaining moments of my life with peaceful indifference. After all, I had essentially accepted that it was by the blade of this haunting man's sword that I would meet my inevitable end. Hearing the encroaching echoes of the footfalls, I turned to face my pursuer and undertaker.

"Akira!" an unexpected voice shouted, startling my rigid, noncompliant body into action as my hand flew instinctively to the leather sheath on my lower back; but despite my frantic fumbling, my fingers found no blade. I cursed lowly, eyes darting towards the source of the voice.

"Rin," I began, my voice significantly lower than I expected it to be, "what are you doing? Why did you leave the hotel?"

The boy placed his hands on my shoulders, shaking me in attempt to discover if I had acquired any injuries during my escapade into the dark streets of the Toshima neutral zone. Satisfied that I was, in outward appearance, largely unharmed, he ran lithe fingers through his blond hair before defiantly placing them on his hips with a dramatic flourish. "I might ask you the same, baka," he retorted, huffing angrily.

"Shiki is here," I mumbled, embarrassment unexpectedly tightening in my chest, "the neutral zone isn't neutral anymore. He took out a small gang and came after me. Apparently I lost my knife in the encounter, but as far as I can tell, he hasn't followed me, so I'm going to go get it back."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Rin interjected, waving his hands dramatically in my face, "he's still around here for sure. Just leave it, you can borrow one of mine or we can get you another one. We both have some shit tags that we could use to get a new blade. It's not worth dying at the hands of that lunatic bastard."

I sighed, releasing the breath that I had been anxiously holding for what seemed like ages, my shoulders releasing themselves from tension that had become dully painful. "Just go back to the hotel, tell Keisuke and the old man that I'm fine and I'll be back in a little while. I know exactly where it will be, so it'll be quick."

Rin looked skeptical, narrowing his bright eyes with apparent distrust and latent worry as he assessed my wellbeing yet again. "Fine," he hummed, "but be quick and careful. Just because you don't see him, doesn't mean that Shiki doesn't see you."

I simply nodded in accord as he slapped my shoulder before turning to sprint into the shadows, the echoes of his light footsteps quickly fading into the sounds of the night. Collecting the remaining fragments of my courage, I cursed myself for my weakness as I began to retrace my steps, disgust and anxiety coiling hotly in my stomach. Breaking into a jog, I wove among the clusters of darkness, checking my surroundings with excessive caution as I neared the location where, not long before, I had encountered the most lethal man in Toshima. Despite the slight grimy disgust that had overwhelmed me at our initial contact, there was no denying the pleasure that he brought me, regardless of my reluctance. I shook the thoughts from my mind, rounding a final corner before stopping in the center of the darkened street, the shattered glass of the shop window glinting in the restricted scope of the streetlamps like ice. Cautiously I stepped into the light and towards the doorway, the shards tinkling beneath my feet as they were ground into the cold wetness of the asphalt below. Ducking into the quiet room, my eyes scanned the vacant space, searching for the glint of steel among the shadows of boxes and forgotten merchandise, but found nothing.

From the dim silence came a flash of light, followed by the resolute thud of a knife impacting the crumbling sheetrock to the right of my head. The swift movement made me freeze, the small, nearly imperceptible force of instinct willing my body to remain perfectly motionless, the force from the blade causing a breeze which made my hair lightly sway around my face. My gaze shifted quickly from the quivering dagger to the shadowy corner of its origin, where a darkness seemed to grow and move, the silhouette of a figure encroaching on the limited light of the room. The fluttering of a coat around long legs and the steady, solid footfalls of boots on creaking hardwood floors drew my attention to the ghostly fringes of the room, the gleam of black leather over a familiar strong frame providing an unsettling relief to my nerves. Moonlight fell gently over his pale features, red eyes smirking with a knowing satisfaction and a devious grin lightly tugging at the corners of thin, remarkably alluring lips.

"Akira," Shiki purred, the amusement in his voice palatable. "I assumed you'd be wanting that," he gestured to the blade embedded in the wall with the end of his sheathed katana, "and I'm pleased that my little dog came running back when I called."

Scoffing, I narrowed my eyes at the man before me, carefully raising my hand to grip the handle of my dagger, plaster crumbling as I pulled the blade free. Shiki clucked in disapproval as he swiftly freed his sword, the razor tip lightly teasing the skin at my wrist as the icy steel left a trail of heat at each point of contact. He flashed a smirk, approaching me in slow, measured steps until we were face to face, my grip faltering as I let the knife clatter to the floor, every fiber of my body surging with heat and tension, unsettling arousal building in my stomach as I confronted him with my gaze. The figure before me relaxed his face, lips parting slightly as he assessed my expression, his red eyes dark and haunting as they moved across my body, soaking me in greedily.

I could feel the blade of his katana beginning to cut into my skin, not from any intentional force of intimidation, but from his apparent carelessness as we became more engaged, our bodies mindlessly drawing closer and seeking out forbidden intimacy. He sheathed his sword, carefully leaning the scabbard against the wall behind me before grabbing my wrists roughly, pinning them above my head with an easy strength that, rather than inspiring fear and intimidation, coaxed from me eagerness. I squirmed against his grip and my growing impatience, and suddenly closed the distance between us, claiming his cold lips with mine and pressing my hips against his solid frame, desperately attempting to draw him in, to encourage the closeness of the contact.

"Hmm," Shiki hummed as a devilish grin pulled at his lips, "so needy, Akira." His words teased against my skin, my name sounding sweet as it melted across his tongue, his low voice deep and lusty.

"Fuck you," I hissed in return as he ground his hips against mine, roughly trapping me between himself and the wall and forcing a reluctant moan from my lips as he grazed my growing arousal.

"On your knees." My eyes widened at his demand as I attempted to free my hands in retaliation, but he simply made a single fluid movement, sweeping my feet from beneath me and allowing my back to impact the floor heavily. Dropping one knee to my chest, Shiki leaned over me dangerously, the touch of his leather glove on my face oddly soothing despite my circumstances as he trailed a lean finger over my lips. "A dog should know when he's beaten, Akira. When I tell you to sit, you sit. When I tell you to fetch, you fetch. And when I tell you to get on your knees," he said darkly, lowering his lips to mine, "you would do well to follow my orders."

I shivered in anticipation as his tongue grazed my jaw, my head rocking back and exposing my neck to him further, encouraging his ministrations as I freed my hands, which willingly migrated down his toned sides and slid to the borders of his leather pants. My palms felt the strain around his crotch, touching him experimentally through the restraints of his clothing, noticing the indiscreet absence of attention to my neck. Shiki seemed to reject my momentary satisfaction at my own dominance, and bit my neck roughly, shifting to straddle my hips, pinning me beneath him as he palmed my arousal aggressively.

"Shiki, stop," I attempted to protest, my voice regrettably husky with lust, "Shiki, please."

"Ah my dog is begging," he laughed darkly, clearly pleased with my reaction, "shall I reward you?"

"I… Shiki, I," I stumbled over my words, blushing brightly as his red eyes assessed my face with obvious amusement. Abandoning my fractured attempt at speech, I raised my hands and wove them into the glossy ebony hair of the man above me, gently pulling him into a desperate kiss, brushing my tongue over his lips. He quickly returned the intimate touch, our tongues tangling in fiery exploration as we fought for dominance, the heated pas de deux escalating until we broke apart to struggle for breath. "Shiki," I panted heavily, "I want you to fuck me."

He merely smirked in recognition, assaulting the tender skin of my neck with nips and licks of surprising gentleness, his fingers exploring the hems of my shirt and tracing the bones of my hips. Shiki's touch was tender, lacking the lethal confidence to which he was so accustomed, replaced instead with a reluctant timidity that caused his fingertips to ghost over my skin, tracing the ridges of my muscles and tendons. My hands moved seemingly of their own accord, teasing the buckle of the leather belt slung low across his hips, sliding the straps free, unconscious eagerness beginning to betray my own logic, aching desperately for the body of the dangerous man above me. It was, most likely, the haunting darkness, the unpredictable hazard of simply being in Shiki's presence that contributed to his deadly allure, that raw sexiness that always accompanied that which is forbidden.

I tugged the zipper of his pants free from its interlocking confines, my patience and inhibitions dissolving rapidly with each panting, needy breath as I pushed him away, allowing myself to take his exposed arousal into my mouth. He sighed as my tongue grazed the tip fearfully, experimentally, before swallowing him deeply, my lips and teeth lightly teasing the tender flesh as I felt his gloved hands blindly tracing the muscles of my back, occasionally gripping my shoulder tightly as he groaned. My tongue drew lazy patterns along the underside of his length, causing him to shudder before gripping my chin tightly and raising my face to his. Shiki was nearly unrecognizable, his eyes heavily lidded and his pale cheeks dusted lightly with color as he trailed his thumb over my lips, watching my tongue graze it lightly in response before kissing me deeply, hands passionately tangling into my grey hair. Breaking the contact momentarily, he rid us both of our shirts and peeled the leather gloves from his hands with his teeth, as he had less than an hour before. The frigid gaze of his piercing red eyes never parted from mine as he raised his fingers to my lips, which I accepted with enthusiasm, coiling my tongue around each digit slowly, the aggressiveness of my desire making the task seem tedious. Yet the smoldering scrutiny of the man before me urged me to continue, my ministrations causing his stony façade to crumble as he began to succumb to the passion that was undoubtedly rising between us.

"I'm done waiting, Shiki," I sighed in a quiet moan as I lashed his fingers with a final graze of my tongue, "and I know you are growing impatient."

His cocky smirk returned instantaneously as he shoved me onto my back, relieving me of my jeans with expert fluidity and placing a finger lightly at my entrance before pressing slowly into the heat. The intrusion provided only momentary discomfort, and I soon pressed myself further onto his additional digits as he moved them slowly, teasingly, scarcely grazing the knot of nerves which made me moan with shameless abandon. His dark, knowing grin again pulled at the corners of his lips as he chuckled lowly, removing his fingers and pulling me into his lap, where I positioned myself above his arousal.

"Relax and it won't hurt."

Anxious despite his reassurance, I wrapped my arms tightly around his neck, resting my forehead in the muscular valley at the base of his neck, deeply inhaling the scent of leather and his surprisingly warm flesh as I took him in. Finally, our thighs touched, the heat of the contact wildly comforting as I rolled my hips slowly, adjusting to his length as we sighed against each other, his strong arms encircling my waist. As I moved, pleasure building within us both, I found the angles and depths that made us both shudder and cry out, our bodies synchronized in their desires and each seeking the erotic comfort of the other. My pace increased, rising and falling with surprising vigor as Shiki began to stroke my length, his hand intentionally moving out of time with his thrusts, the sensation and discord heightening my pleasure as I neared my release. We spoke no words, the panting groans of ecstasy expressing all that needed to be said as he thrust into me roughly several more times, my orgasm violently crashing over me like a wave that had the force to rearrange the face of the beach. I clung to him desperately as he shuddered, releasing into me with a heavy sigh and placing heavy kisses along my shoulder.

We remained, unmoving, for several moments, the sensation of his body next to mine, the rising and falling of his chest oddly comforting as I pressed myself to him. I felt safe for the first instance since my arrival in Toshima, encompassed in a warmth that had long ago been abandoned as truth, a familiarity that seemed nothing but a fairytale. My mind allowed itself to be rid of caution and fear, for no external harm could befall me while I was encircled by the strong arms of the most dangerous thing I knew. At some point I had ceased to imagine Shiki as a threat, acknowledging him, instead, as a source of pleasure and refuge from the dangers that plagued my reality. I feared the termination of this moment, worried that the end of this embrace would return us to what was widely accepted as truth: Shiki was a hunter and everyone in Igura, myself included, was prey, a temporary diversion for the remorseless beast which prowled through the night, taking lives at will.

"Shiki," I began, my voice only the trembling ghost of a whisper, "will you kill me?"

He sat in silence for a moment, sighing heavily against my neck as he responded, "No. Not now."

Carefully I stood, untangling our bodies as I retrieved my clothes, glancing back at his as I tugged on my jeans and yanked up the zipper of my coat. Shiki scarcely moved, buttoning his pants silently, but remained kneeling on the floor, his expression vacant as I placed his coat in his lap and katana in his hand. In his stillness he was strikingly beautiful, dark but fair, the typical malicious aura and the faint scent of blood nearly imperceptible in that moment of peace, and I wondered which façade was the true face of Shiki, the most lethal, feared creature in Toshima. I placed my palm on his cheek, and he softly leaned into the contact, allowing his eyes to close as he sighed and my lips pressed lightly against his. He seemed lonely, but my cowardice and his pride refused to let me speak on the matter.

Shiki seemed to shake himself free of his momentary stagnation, quickly rising to his feet and gazing down at me with the same icy gaze that had so enthralled and frightened me before. "No, I will not kill you, Akira," he began with a low, sultry voice, "but if anyone touches what is mine, I will not hesitate to end their life. You are mine. That is something else that you would do well to remember." Resolute in his threat, he turned to leave, my fingers straining to remain entwined with his for as long as they could manage before breaking free. I watched him leave, his broad shoulders casting dramatic shadows against the asphalt as he blurred into the darkness of the streets, his presence fading like a ghost into the silence.

Sighing, I attempted to compose myself, collecting my dagger from the floor and sliding it into the sheath at my lower back before striding out of the store, the remaining shards of the broken window once again grinding beneath the soles of my feet. I casually made my way to the hotel, no longer fearing any pursuers as I walked in silence through the streets, the echoes of the night reaching my ears from distances unknown. The muted sounds of death which had plagued my thoughts since my arrival infected me with no worry, knowing that the cause was also my salvation. Shiki was mine; of that I was certain.


	3. Third Encounter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit different from the first two and is kind of fluffy, but I wanted an external observation of Akira's demeanor, so this is the result of that intention. However, the next chapters will return to focus on Shiki and Akira, and will thereby be deliciously smutty. And with that, I present you all with Part III. Meadie out.

I couldn't help but pace through the hotel lobby, glancing compulsively towards the large double doors of the building's entrance as I anxiously twisted the hem of my shirt around my fingers. It had been nearly an hour since Rin came sauntering in, flopping into a chair next to Motomi and casually informing us that he had seen Akira not long before, and that our grey-haired companion had strayed off again in search for the dagger he lost. I had been swallowed by worry despite Rin's assurance that Akira was perfectly fine and would be back soon, but the knowledge that Shiki was prowling through the neutral zone caused anxiety to churn in my stomach. What would I do if he never came back? What then? Akira was the only reason that I had come to Toshima, and the wrenching fear that I felt during every miserable second I spent in this place was only bearable due to the comfort that he unconsciously gave me. He was either remarkably tolerant or entirely indifferent towards my pitiful, pleading adoration of him, but just being in his presence was enough to satisfy my desire for his affection. I wanted more than anything to be his protector and even tried to join Igura, but apparently my resolve was as feeble as my body, and I once again became the protected.

"Shit, Keisuke!" Rin's flustered voice drew my attention, swiftly breaking the flow of my rapid thoughts as I ceased my pacing and turned to face him. The blond sighed heavily and rose from his chair, snapping shut the blade that he'd been absentmindedly toying with and walking over to glare at me, his small frame invading my personal space as he placed his fists on his hips with a dramatic flourish. "Akira is fine! I'm sure he'll be back any minute now," he said, waving his hand in front of his face and vaguely gesturing towards the door. "Besides, Akira never does anything quickly. He's probably strolling through the streets with that leisurely walk of his, taking his sweet damn time. Now sit down, your pacing is annoying the shit out of me."

I could only sigh as I fell heavily into the small couch across from Motomi, who tried to give me a reassuring smile through the haze of cigarette smoke that always followed him like it was his shadow. "No worries, Keisuke. Akira's a tough kid."

"Yeah," I mumbled in response. Then I couldn't help but feel guilty for underestimating Akira's abilities; after all, he always managed to be the last man standing, even when he was toting me around like a lead weight that he just couldn't shake. Acting on his own, he seemed nearly invincible in my eyes. He was Lost, the undisputed Bl ster champion who could face any opponent without so much as a flinch, taking down challenging competitors with remarkable ease, and even managing to look bored while doing so. But still… that Shiki guy was more legendary than even Akira, and apparently not only because of his remarkable strength and skill. If the whispers were true, he was a demon in human form and had eyes that could crucify you with a single glance, he was merciless and cut men down simply because he could; he didn't care about tags like everyone else since he wasn't even a participant in Igura. No one really knew why he was here and didn't care to find out, because if you were unlucky enough to encounter him, the steel of his katana would be the last thing you'd ever see.

My thoughts had gotten far too out of hand, and I could feel the acidic knot in my stomach clenching again as worry began to rise to the surface, that single burning point of heat in my chest spreading through my veins like poison, setting my entire body on edge. I needed air. Away from Motomi's smoke and the suffocating presence of the numerous competitors who lounged throughout the hotel lobby, pointlessly discussing everything and nothing in a jumbled roulette of shit-talking and gossip. Stumbling with a noticeable lack of grace as I pulled myself from the deeply worn cushion of the couch, I nearly fell on my face, but quickly recovered thanks to a strategically placed coffee table before turning to bolt out the door.

"Erm, Keisuke?"

I heard Motomi call after me, but I scarcely had the composure to respond as I continued to gaze sheepishly at my feet, my distraction providing a slender blond boy with the opportunity to snag me by the collar of my shirt, nearly decapitating me in the process. "The hell is wrong with you?"

"Lemme go, Rin," I panted desperately, "can't breathe, need air."

He eyed me with suspicion, knitting his eyebrows together tightly as I squirmed under his scrutinizing gaze, but he finally let me go as he shoved a water bottle against my chest, plucking it from amidst the armful of provisions he had collected from the front desk. "Don't wander off," he said sternly. "I already had to play bloodhound when I went after Shiki and Akira, and I'm not gonna do it again to hunt down you. Come right back, baka, 'cause I got us all Solids. Even that god-awful OmuRice shit that Akira likes," he griped, waving his free hand in front of his face with dismissive disgust before nodding towards the door, shooing me away.

Busting through the glass doors and into the open street, I had never been more grateful for the opportunity to suck in a heavy breath of frigid air, regardless of the semi-permanent smog that had been plaguing this place since it was abandoned. Toshima would always be shrouded in some ominous gas or another it seemed, the grimy reminders of times long past somehow oddly appropriate for the desolate, lawless expanse of no-man's-land that it had become. I fell against the sturdy brick of the deteriorating hotel façade, whatever aesthetic semblance of grandeur that the building once had was clearly neglected over the years, understandably exchanging fashion for function. At that moment though, I didn't give a damn about any of that; I was just glad for the resolute immobility of the wall itself, since it managed to be the only thing that wasn't twisted into the vertigo that deceived my body and fogged my mind. Leaning my head back against the brick, I dared to cautiously crack open one eye, sighing with relief when my world didn't go toppling over while taking my sense of direction with it. My breaths finally began to slow, the choppy violence of hyperventilation no longer causing my chest to heave and ache, and I was finally able to hear something other than my own desperate gasps for air. Rather, I heard the familiar lazy scuffle of worn sneakers skimming over wet asphalt, drawing my gaze to a lanky figure I knew so well, hands shoved in his jean pockets as he faded between the scopes of dim streetlights.

"Akira!" I didn't mean for my voice to sound nearly as pitiful as it did, and I attempted to steady myself as I called out to him again, clumsily pushing myself off of the bricks and rushing to his side despite the lingering vertigo. "Akira! Akira, you're back! I was so scared."

Looking at me with those lovely, icy eyes, he nodded to me in recognition when I stumbled into him, clutching onto the front of his jacket desperately and resting my forehead on his chest, as if I feared that he would vanish again. "Keisuke," he said distantly, and simply hearing my name spill from his lips caused an intense surge of tearful relief to pulse through my body like an antidote, subduing the poison of my anxiety. Glancing up at him, I assessed him for any serious injuries, and though one of his hands was bloody with shallow lacerations, he largely looked unharmed, albeit disheveled and exhausted. "I'm fine," he assured, carefully prying my fingers from their purchase on his coat before letting them fall limply to my sides.

"Let's go in," I urged, "Rin and Motomi are…"

He looked at me curiously, tilting his head slightly and narrowing his eyes as I swallowed the remainder of my words, my gaze fixed on the marks that riddled the sides of his neck and the series of bruises and bites that were scattered there, some dotted with small beads of dried blood.

"Keisuke?" he questioned, confused.

Without speaking, my hand rose and lightly touched the marks, gently tracing them with the tips of my fingers as my worry and muddled fear trapped my breaths in my throat. I shifted my gaze to meet his and my palm rested softly on his cheek, his frigid eyes narrowing with agitation as he slapped my hand away, and tugging on his coat so that the fur-lined hood concealed the contusions on the assaulted skin. Grunting softly with annoyance, he shouldered past me, stopping to look quickly at the roof of the building directly across from us before shoving his hands back into his pockets and entering the hotel lobby. Concerned, my gaze followed his, but upon seeing nothing I abandoned the task, allowing relief to swallow me again as I quickly followed him inside, heading towards the collection of chairs where we usually convened.

"I told you he would be fine!" Rin informed me triumphantly as I took my seat to the right of Akira on the small couch, watching him carefully as he took greedy bites of the Solid that the blond had shoved in his face. He was staring absently at the coffee table, easily ignoring both my intense assessment of his wellbeing and Rin's incessant lecture on running off in the middle of the night while Shiki was around.

Motomi grinned and laughed loudly, his heavy sigh causing the cloud of cigarette smoke in front of him to churn and dissipate. "You're one to talk, Rin! The only reason Akira ended up out there was because you bolted out of here like a madman when you heard Shiki's name."

Rin made a face as if to retaliate, but unable to deny the old man's accusation, he settled instead on rambling smugly about the fact that Akira hadn't been in Toshima for nearly as long as he had and therefore was incapable of navigating the streets at night without ending up as a corpse. Retorting sarcastically with the astute observation that Akira was sitting on the couch and was very clearly not a corpse, Motomi gave yet another hearty laugh when Rin began to sputter incoherent objections before huffing and flopping into his chair, folding his arms over his chest and pouting like a child. I smiled at the pair as they bickered, leaning against the back of the couch and sinking into the lumpy cushions with a heavy sigh, releasing all of my residual tension with that single breath. Closing my eyes for just a moment, I startled when I felt something bump my shoulder, but felt a giddy warmth bathe over my heart when I glanced down to see that Akira had fallen asleep, slouched heavily against my arm.

Nothing could dampen my smile and overwhelming contentment as I watched him, listening to the deep regularity of his breaths as I brushed back the strands of grey hair that had fallen across his face while he slept. He hadn't been this relaxed since we arrived in Toshima, every noise and echo of the night had kept him on his guard, and the lack of sleep had been wearing him down over the last few days. The dark circles that bloomed beneath his eyes and the sickly pallor of his skin confirmed his exhaustion, and it tore violently at my heart, knowing that his obligation to protect me as well only made things worse. I wanted to assure him that it was alright for him to rest, that I would protect him while he was at his most vulnerable, but no promise I could make would be able to subdue his body's instinctual urge to survive. No matter how you looked at the situation, it was blindingly clear that my presence here was only a hindrance, making his life in Toshima and participation in Igura considerably more difficult than it needed to be. This place was already dangerous enough when one had to look only after themselves, but when burdened with someone who was nearly as helpless as a child, making it out of here alive appeared to be nearly impossible.

Nuzzling against him happily, I relished in his comforting warmth, desperately wishing that I could always be close to him like this, able to feel his body pressed to mine and being able to savor his scent. He smelled so distinctly like Akira; there was something so pleasant and unidentifiable about it, but it reminded me vaguely of the refreshing, earthy scent of the forest just after a storm, when the air is clean and lightly riddled with the aroma of pine. I fought the urge to hold him, to pull him closer and not let go, but it was so rare to see Akira sleeping so peacefully like this these days, it seemed like a sin to wake him on account of my own selfishness. Instead I curled my fingers around his hand and trailed my thumb over his knuckles as I rested my head lightly on his with a contented sigh, enjoying the softness of his thick grey hair as it brushed over my cheek.

In this blissful moment, nothing, not even the knowledge that we were still in Toshima could steal my happiness from me. I loved Akira more than anything else in this world, easily more than my own life, and would sacrifice everything I had in order to make him happy and to earn his love in return. He was the image of perfection in my eyes; strong and beautiful, fearless and steady as a mountain, and to me, he was the invincible constant in my life, the only thing that confirmed my existence. He had been protecting me since our days in the orphanage together, and without Akira, I would have nothing at all.

"Oh shit!"

Someone's shout teased me to slowly open my eyes for a moment, but before I could reluctantly raise my head to see what was causing the commotion, I felt myself being torn from the couch and tossed to the floor, landing heavily on my back. I clutched my throbbing head and squinted tears from my eyes as I pushed myself up on my elbows, groaning and trying to recover from the startling impact. The sensation of frigid metal resting beneath my chin caused my eyes to fly open in surprise, and I soon looked upon the slight, gleaming curve of a katana that was wielded with steady confidence by the man who I assumed was my assailant. The sight of him alone was enough to freeze the blood in my veins as he glared down at me with scarlet eyes that held nothing but rage and disgust; and yet there was something else in his gaze that I could scarcely identify, but which I finally defined as the intent to kill. His presence was imposing and heavy as he towered over me, and it felt as if my body was pinned in place by an immense weight that I couldn't see, causing my muscles to do nothing in attempt to escape, only to tremble with weakness. Though I had never experienced fear this potent, he was still hauntingly beautiful; his entire being seemed to be composed of the colors of the night, his skin pale but radiant like the moon, and his hair so black that it put the midnight sky to shame.

"You must want to die, wretch."

My body noticeably shuttered as he spoke, his voice so low and dark that it would have been arousing in any other circumstance, when it wasn't laced with such suffocating malice. Sucking in a trembling gasp, I opened my mouth to speak, but could not form any comprehensible thoughts as I lay sprawled on the floor, trapped by his daunting, challenging glare. His eyes narrowed as I stumbled over my entirely unsuccessful attempts at speech, his expression clearly growing increasingly more irritated by my incoherent mumbles until it was contorted into a spiteful scowl. Scoffing loudly, he bumped the underside of my chin with the icy blade, causing me to close my eyes tightly and tilt my head back with a whimper, which appeared to only agitate him further.

"Shiki! That's enough!"

Akira's voice seemed to grab his attention, his eyes widening for a split second as he glanced over his shoulder at the man behind him, before glaring back down at me and reluctantly returning his katana to its sheath. I attempted to look around his legs so that I could see my grey-haired friend who had, once again, saved my life, but my shaking body still refused to move on my command. The tall specter of a man stepped back slightly and turned to look upon Akira, who had risen from his seat and was standing in a defensive position, panting heavily with ire as he glared directly into Shiki's eyes. Since he scarcely ever showed emotion, I was shocked and slightly afraid when I saw the expression of rage on his face; those eyes that usually were devoid of sentiment were narrow and gleamed sharply like daggers while his lips were pressed into a tight line as he ground his teeth in frustration. Compared to his typical aura of indifference, this version of Akira was remarkably frightening as well, though the feeling of his anger in the air scarcely had enough power to subdue Shiki's.

"Akira…." The assailant began, but his words were quickly silenced.

"That's enough, Shiki," Akira spat, returning Shiki's hateful glare of rejection without so much as a flinch. During this exchange, everyone in the hotel lobby who had not already fled stood frozen in place as they absorbed the scene before them in a silence that seemed painfully unnatural, as if scarcely a breath was taken. The quiet was overwhelming, and the only sound I could perceive was the violent pounding of my own heart, and the noise seemed so deafening in my ears that I wouldn't be surprised if every person in a kilometer radius could hear it.

"Are you barking at your master, pet?" Shiki asked bitterly as his eyes narrowed, his voice somehow managing to seem more menacing than before, making me shiver.

He started to walk towards Akira with slow, calculating steps, his long black coat fluttering elegantly around his legs and causing him to appear graceful and elegant in his movements. Every action was lithe and sinful, his proud, predatory nature apparent in his posture and composure; he seemed so dangerous and simultaneously alluring, and it made me want to reach out and touch him, regardless of the fate that would await me for my insolence.

He was like a god.

A god of death.

I panicked as he came to a halt directly in front of Akira, reaching up and grasping the grey-haired man's jaw tightly in a strong, gloved hand, and I was surprised to see that Akira made no effort to struggle against him. Shiki appeared almost disappointed as they looked into each other's eyes intensely, neither backing down or averting their gaze, as they both were clearly too proud to admit defeat at the hands of the other. Time seemed to groan to a halt as everyone in the lobby observed their interaction with confusion for what felt like ages as they wondered why the grey-haired man was not yet dead, and still not a word was spoken or movement made. It was probably the closest that anyone had been to Shiki during their time in Igura, as most of the fools who encountered him had long since been silenced by the sheathed blade that remained securely in his grasp. Everyone stood in silent, unmoving awe while a potent mixture of amazement and crippling terror pounding in their veins, and waited.

Suddenly, Akira lurched into action, curling his fists tightly into the cloth that covered Shiki's sculpted chest, pulling the taller man into an aggressive kiss. Though he seemed surprised for a moment, Shiki smirked and mumbles something against the assaulting lips as he returned the kiss with equal vigor, their tongues intertwining as he eased his grip on Akira's jaw, hand sliding over his body to his lower back and pressing the younger man against his own taught frame. The lithe fingers that I so desperately wanted to explore my body were snaking over Shiki's chest and tangling themselves in the thick hair at the nape of his neck, gently tugging on the locks and scratching lightly into his scalp, coaxing out a quiet moan. Hands began to wander yet again and Akira drug his blunt nails down over the milky flesh of the taller man's throat as he moaned without reservation, leaving angry red marks hat trailed over the delicate skin, as if stating possession with a brand. They continued this way for several moments until separating to struggle for air, but when their lips parted, Akira quickly grabbed Shiki's wrist, dragging him through the lobby and out the front doors, vanishing in to the icy darkness of the Toshima night.

I continued to hold my breath, and no one moved for quite a long time, everyone simply staring blankly after them in silence until someone spoke, shattering the oppressing quiet.

"What the fuck?"


	4. Fourth Encounter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***Additional warning for this chapter: Shiki gets a bit rough with Akira, so heads up!***

I had to admit, though it pained me to do so, that I was developing a peculiar fondness for this Akira character. He was quite different from the vile scum that crawl and slink through the darkened corners and trash-littered alleys that make up the foundations of Toshima; he was fearless and arrogant, and the delectable body beneath those clothes made me hungry for release. The fact that he was entirely content with ghosting through the shadows does not concern me, however, I admired that his confidence rendered him brave enough to bare his existence plainly to the light. I thoroughly venerate his boldness, as it's a quality that is nearly unknown in Toshima; regardless, I still appreciated that most of the wretched strays were considerate enough to lurk in the shadows and out of my sight. Those who elected remain unseen as they wallow in their pitiable fear may have indeed postponed meeting their ends by my katana, but the nauseating knowledge of their poorly concealed presence was enough to sicken me nonetheless, and I would gladly seek them out and eliminate them for my own satisfaction. He may still have been a dog of Igura, but I would scarcely even consider labelling the grey-haired man as scum, and certainly would not kill him for being such; he was a rare breed, a pet worthy of providing me with satisfaction in an entirely different manner.

I cursed myself when I realized that had been obsessing over Akira since we had parted, that my mind had not strayed from the memories of each burning surge of lustful heat that he inspired with every touch. He may be a rare breed, but that would never exempt him from the status of being a dog; and dogs should not be worthy of maintaining such a persistent occupation in my mind. Lost in thought, I scarcely acknowledged the fearful cockroaches that were darting among the shadows and filthy, darkened alleys of the rain-washed Toshima streets, and was even further disturbed by the realization that I had simply ignored their proximity rather than immediately moving to cut them down. Akira's existence was becoming embedded so firmly into my cognizance that it was making me weak and negligent, sapping away the potency of my lethality, and I found this to become exceedingly frustrating.

Determined to prove otherwise, I sought out and slayed several Igura rats, and was pleased to find that I could eliminate them with the easy efficiency that always dictated my movements. While I stood over their mangled corpses and flicked the filth of their blood from my blade, I still was haunted by an odd sort indifference to which I was unaccustomed; generally I would be relishing the satisfaction brought on by this simple assertion of my superiority, but this kill seemed lackluster. Though I was tempted to continue on with my elimination campaign as I sought to revive my typical state of mind, I simultaneously knew that my mind would remain wholly distracted while it was filled with thoughts of him.

Reluctantly, I whisked the residual droplets of persistent gore from my katana before guiding it back into its sheath with practiced efficiency, all the while mumbling flustered curses into the empty alley, which seemed to mock me as it echoed my gripes back to my ears. Growing increasingly more aggravated, I glared into the darkness at nothing in particular before glancing to the cloud-muddled sky overhead, desperate to cast my bitterness towards something, anything, innocent and tangible.

"Dammit," I scoffed, clenching my jaw tightly, "damn him."

At some point I found my way to the rooftops of the Toshima skyline, walking along the ledges effortlessly, and the rhythmic tapping of my boots on the stone proudly displayed my sure-footedness. Though I was six stories and one misstep from the wet, grimy asphalt below, I was equally confident in my balance here on the brick and cinder-block precipices as I would be if simply strolling amongst the shadows on solid ground. Many would likely feel that arousing rush of adrenaline and the high of exhilaration if they were to mimic my actions as I skated soundlessly from ledge to ledge, but the culmination of years of war and merciless killing had nearly entirely robbed me of the ability to feel any thrill. My confidence in my own abilities and strengths had essentially erased the sensations that accompany the pulsing, sickening elation of fear and the realization that one might be powerless in the face of imminent peril. However, given that I am, in fact, the most prominent and potent source of fear in the eyes of the scum of Toshima, the sensation of adrenaline soaked horror is entirely foreign to me, though I regularly see it painted across the faces of my victims. I envy them in a way, they are permitted to shamelessly express so many emotions, most notably the intoxicating shock of terror, while I am left with nothing. Even the act of taking a life has become less thrilling over the years; playing the role of shinigami may be somewhat satisfying due to the power that accompanies holding a life in the palm of your hand, but there are times when the task seems tedious as well.

He appears to be the only exception to the unwritten laws that govern my existence. When I'm with Akira, I am given the opportunity to savor the discord he induces, the sensation of being dominant and regulatory while simultaneously feeling out of control, basking in a primitive wildness that threatens to let me become unhinged. There is, however, a small and nearly unperceivable chain somewhere in my consciousness that keeps me shackled, albeit precariously, to the comforting restraint of sanity and composure. Akira's presence seems to weaken the suppressive bonds, causing each link in the manacle to strain and pull apart, threatening to disintegrate into nothing but a heaving wave of animalistic impulse. My assessment easily concludes that once those retainers are destroyed, there is no returning to standard human society or re-adoption of its morals and norms. At that instant, even the most decent of men undergo a nearly immediate reverse evolution, regressing back to a nearly barbaric being that lives only for his own pleasure. It is sinful, primitive, raw, and reeks with the divine scent of carnal contact.

Not entirely of my own accord, I somehow ended up perched on the roof of the building that stands across from the Neutral Zone hotel, watching shadows shift and recede as numerous Igura participants strode in and out of the light that poured from within the lobby. The illumination from within cast a yellow puddle of warm, comforting brightness across the damp asphalt of the street; but even the jovial spread of the heartening rays was consumed by the darkness as well, just as everything else in Toshima was. I sat atop the edifice as I vacantly assessed the scene below me, one of my legs swinging freely over the edge while the other was pulled slightly to my chest, lounging casually despite the strangeness of my location. Though I claimed that my actions there were merely a result of growing and unrelenting boredom, I knew that despite the asinine lies I told myself, I was in truth attempting to monitor Akira's movements so as to satisfy my foolish possessiveness. I felt as if I was a hawk with contradictory and illogical instincts, continuously tracking the prey that was so plainly in my line of sight but making no movement to descend from the air to claim my prize. The entire situation was completely ridiculous, and I scolded myself for acting in accordance with my own selfish whims, as well as for allowing thoughts of the grey-haired man to consume my mind so effortlessly.

Before long, I could see Akira's silhouette as he walked with apparent indifference toward the hotel, the volatile shadows cast by his movement between the lampposts growing and receding like an assemblage of hell-beasts that pursued him relentlessly. His approach was recognized by a tall, slender brunet whose presence I had scarcely acknowledged before, who called out to his companion and rushed to greet him. When the brunet clutched onto Akira's jacket and rested his forehead against the grey-haired man's lightly sculpted chest, I felt a nauseating surge of possessiveness; though the emotion could easily be reinterpreted as jealousy, I refused to admit that I felt slightly inferior to the brown-haired wretch who was tainting my property with his touch. Despite the open display of affection, which, in my opinion appeared far too pitiful and needy, my pet remained motionless with indifference, entirely disinterested in the brunet's painfully obvious pleas for affection. However, an irritated scowl sprang onto Akira's largely emotionless face when the other male inspected the bruises and bites with which I had branded him, tracing his fingers tenderly across the marks before attempting to caress his cheek.

I began to find this familiarity between the two to be infuriating as I watched the interaction in silence, tapping a gloved finger on the hilt of my katana with ever-increasing irritation. After Akira shouldered past the brunet and casually make his way towards the hotel entrance, he glanced in my direction and shot me frigid glare with those intense crystalline eyes, somehow detecting my presence on the rooftop. Though my anger remained unscathed by his acknowledgement, I couldn't restrain the nearly imperceptible smirk that tugged reluctantly at my lips.

"How astute of you, Akira," I quietly praised, but my resentment began to boil yet again as the lanky, brown-eyed fool glanced in my direction before chasing after the grey-haired man, much like a dog who was fearful of his master's abandonment. "My pet has a pet, hmm? That needs to be fixed."

After grumbling my irritation for several minutes, I alighted from my perch, quietly and swiftly descending through the tangle of fire escapes of questionable reliability until landing softly on the wet asphalt below, my coat rippling down behind me before falling to once again hug my frame. Rising from my crouched position, I straightened myself and shifted my sheathed katana to my left hand, coaxing free the familiar groan of my leather gloves against polished wood as I subtly tightened my grip, preparing for combat. The thought of having to prepare myself for a fight seemed utterly pointless, and frankly, ridiculously comical. I was always ready for battle; even a gang of one hundred Igura strays could prepare for a month and then attack me by surprise, but still I would receive not even a scratch while their pitiful regiment was decimated by my blade with ease. I was vaguely optimistic in my hopes that such an encounter would occur upon my entrance into the hotel, just so that I could prove my theory; nevertheless it was essentially guaranteed that the rats would scatter as they always do. How disappointing. It was very rude of them to hamper my sport just because they were afraid.

Stepping free from the secretive shadows of the alley and striding into the open expanse of the street, I cut down the three men who were lounging against the brick of the hotel, and I found it to be excessively pitiful that they did not notice my presence until my blade struck their flesh. It is truly revolting to witness the complacency of fools who have been seduced by the illusion of safety; safety is nothing but a fairytale, especially here in Toshima. If I decided that you were going to die, you would die like scum at my feet. And if I decided that you were worthy of my acknowledgement, I might forgo spitting on your wretched corpse.

I absently flicked their blood from my blade as I nudged the glass doors open with the toe of my boot, casually walking into the brightly lit space as if I belonged there, my gaze darting around the room in search of a pair of familiar blue eyes and a mess of grey hair. Soon my glare sought its target, and I instantly felt a surge of molten rage spreading through my chest like a wildfire when I saw the same vile brunet from before curled desperately around Akira with a nauseating smile on his face. My strides lengthened, ignoring the chaos that ensued upon the notice of my presence, but I didn't take satisfaction in their struggles as I usually would. Every fiber of my body was engorged with the singular desire to tear the lanky waif apart with my own hands; if he served as an example for the rest of the Igura roaches, I didn't care if his filthy blood stained my skin. He was touching what was mine with far too much familiarity, and for this treason he would be denied a swift execution by my blade. I intended to ensure that the message broadcast by his agonizing death would be burned into the memories of every whimpering, grimy rat in Toshima, asserting my ownership over Akira. My Akira. Soon they would be reminded of the true bitter flavor of fear, and would drown in terror at the mere fleeting thought of my name. If any of these dogs grew brave enough to question my absolute power after tonight, I would decimate this hell hole and tear the very stars from the smog riddled skies to remind them of their inferiority and reprimand their insolence. Everything they knew and held dear would vanish into a mist of blood with a single strike of my katana.

Reaching the cluster of chairs along the back wall of the lobby, I grasped my victim's throat roughly, my fingers curling tightly around his windpipe as I plucked him from the couch and threw him to the floor. As I glared down at him sprawled across the dirty carpet, I concluded that he was pathetic to such an obscene degree that I might have been able to pity him under other circumstances. Perhaps I would have been gracious enough to kill him quickly, thereby putting him out of his misery and freeing him from the knowledge that his very existence was nothing more than a bad joke with an even worse punch line. Clutching the back of his head with a whimper, the corners of his eyes were wet with tears as he struggled to push himself off the floor in a feeble attempt to rise to his elbows. When he cracked open his eyes, his gaze trailed along the gentle arc of my katana, finally leaving the gleaming steel to gawk in terror as his stare met mine.

"You must want to die, wretch."

His brown eyes were wide with fear as he trembled conspicuously, and he was fumbling with his words as he attempted to speak, likely trying to piece various phonemes together in some futile effort to plead for mercy. The mere thought of showing him mercy was making me nauseous, which even further fortified my disgust and urge to kill as I leered down at him, bumping the underside of his chin with the tip of my weapon. Releasing a pitiful whimper, he wrenched his eyes shut tightly and tipped his head back with a wince, straining to rid himself of the residual burning sensation left from my blade's contact with his skin. I was moments away from tearing the life out of his body when Akira's voice reached my ears.

"Shiki! That's enough!" he panted heavily, the rage in his voice reflecting itself in the icy gleam in his eyes. I engrossed the scene greedily; his frame was taught as he took a combative stance, his chest heaving as he glared at me furiously, and the animalistic ruthlessness of his expression caused arousal to churn in my blood. The temptation to take him here, plainly within view of so many Igura dogs, was becoming exceedingly overwhelming as his heated gaze continued to melt the chains of my self-control like acid. Though I never wanted to tear my eyes from him, to voraciously absorb the sight of my pet in such a deliciously aggravated state, I threw a hateful glare towards the stray sprawled on the ground beneath me and reluctantly re-sheathed my katana before turning to face Akira directly.

"Akira…."

"That's enough, Shiki," his retaliatory tone silenced me when he spoke, his low voice dripping erotically with venomous intent. Though I was now seething with bitter disapproval at his defiance, his gaze never faltered when confronted with my own, and thereby his attempts at intimidation did naught but provoke my desire even further.

"Are you barking at your master, pet?" I questioned dangerously, my voice lowering as it purred deep in my throat, thickly drenched in sensual malice. Taking easy, measured steps, I closed the distance between us and grasped his jaw tightly as I confronted his gaze; his expression never faltered and he made no attempts to struggle against my hold. We simply stood in silence as we glowered at each other challengingly, scarcely aware of the hundred pairs of horrified eyes that were fixed on us in the fearful, rigid hush of the room. Neither Akira nor I acknowledged the presence of anyone save ourselves, and as our wordless confrontation drug on, it seemed as if our closeness was beginning to say more than any verbal fractures in the silence could. There was something heavy in the miniscule pocket of empty space between us, and I could tell that it would only be a matter of time before he surrendered and succumbed to me once again; the sensation was erotic, dangerous, and desperate, and it threatened to consume us both.

Some curious emotion flashed in Akira's eyes for the fleeting fraction of a moment, and the temporary distraction left me vulnerable long enough to allow pale, warm lips to collide roughly with mine, slightly startling me at the contact. Regaining my composure, I smirked into the kiss, mumbling a gentle taunt before returning the violent affection. "Needy needy, Akira."

He seemed a bit irritated with my snide comment, as he nipped at my lower lip before softly licking the assaulted skin, coaxing my mouth open so that our tongues could begin to tie mindless, sensual knots. Releasing his jaw, I allowed my hand to ghost over his chest and down to his hip, where my thumb casually slipped beneath the hem of his shirt before moving to his lower back, my palm tugging his body against my hips. He groaned quietly, and I could feel the gentle vibration of the sound against my lips while his lithe fingers began to tangle into my hair and scratch softly into my scalp, desperately trying to pull me closer. This time it was my turn to moan at his ministrations, but my breath subtly hitched when I felt his blunt nails dragging themselves roughly down the front of my throat, undoubtedly leaving angry red marks in their wake as we parted for dearly needed air.

In the brief instant between our lips disengaging and opening my eyes, Akira managed to curl his fingers brutally around my wrist as he began to bolt through the lobby and out into the darkness of the street, dragging me behind him as if I was some stubborn bitch on a leash. Busting through the glass doors, he hissed some quiet curses when he nearly tripped over the bloodied corpses of the three men that I had cut down several minutes before, but he refused to release me until we were shrouded in the dim shadows of an alley. He was glancing over his shoulder towards the hotel and panting when I tore my hand free, and as he turned back to face me, my palm made contact with his cheek in a vicious slap.

The only sound that echoed through the silence was his subtle gasp and the resounding crack of my leather-gloved hand impacting the flawless skin of his face. His eyes were wide as his hand flew to touch the assaulted area, where a pink blush was rising to the surface, his flesh retaliating against the force of the collision. Soon enough, his frigid glare returned and was beginning to bore into mine in a silent confrontation, the sheer violence of our anger and pride turning the challenge into an unyielding, bitter battle of wills. Akira parted his lips and attempted to speak, likely preparing to spit a venomous insult at me, but I quickly silenced him with a scowl and a dangerous tone in my voice.

"Pray tell, Akira," I began, scarcely able to compose my rage, "what makes you think that a dog such as yourself has any authority with which to command my actions?" His eyes widened subtly as I took several steps towards him, forcing him to back into the gritty, wet brick of the alley wall; but despite his unfavorable circumstances, he still refused to submit to fear and intimidation. "More importantly, what makes you think that I won't take what I want right here before leaving you to die in a puddle of your own gore?"

Though he continued to glare at me defiantly, he flinched when I closed my fist around his throat roughly before turning him and shoving his chest and face against the wall again, the mild dampness of the building beginning to soak into his clothes. Attempting to fight back, he struggled and writhed against my grip desperately before finally concluding that his retaliation was merely a study in futility. Pressing my body against his back, I pinned him firmly in place, my fingers moving to loosen his belt; but when one of his hands grasped mine, I pressed my palm against the back of his, entwining our fingers as I pinioned them to the wall above his head. The miniscule whimper that fell from his lips was wickedly arousing, encouraging my digits as they worked on the strap of leather around his hips and unclasped the buttons on his jeans, teasing the growing hardness between his legs.

"Shiki, stop this," he growled, "Not like this, you're being too rough."

"I can discipline my pets however I see fit, Akira," I retorted with a scoff, wild amusement tinting my tone as I nuzzled into the valley between his neck and shoulder, biting him harshly.

"Ugh, shit. Shiki, not like this," he pleaded with only a trace of desperation in his voice, and I smirked against his skin, immensely satisfied that his spirit had yet to be broken. The moment that his defiance faltered and shattered, effectively becoming nothing but a pathetic clone of the thousands whom I had already killed, he would have to be eliminated as well.

Akira tensed noticeably as I tugged again on his jeans, the restrictive fabric shrugging from his hips and allowing my touches to freely explore the pristine expanses of his warm, bare skin without hindrance. Ghosting over the length of his hardening arousal, he gasped and shuddered at the sensation of the cold leather of my gloves, allowing his forehead to fall against the brick wall before him, his eyes wrenching closed as he fought the urge to buck his hips into my palm. I chuckled at his struggle, lightly dusting his neck with gentle nips and kisses as I abandoned his pleasure, moving instead to release my own length from the suffocating confines of my pants. Sighing with relief, I laid my head against his back before gripping his hip with my free hand, savoring his wince as my fingers curled tightly into the pale flesh, causing small purple bruises to bloom beneath my touch. I wanted to kiss every mark I inflicted on his specimen of a body in apology, soothing every cut and contusion that marred the perfection of his being. However, at this moment, it was paramount that I prove my point; I would deal with the repercussions of my actions later.

Gritting my teeth, I shoved myself into him forcefully, my moans easily drowned into oblivion by his cries and the heaving, sobbing gasps, the sounds piercing the air around us as I started to move, rocking my hips slowly. Akira maintained a pained grimace while I took him, miniscule tears attempting to burst free from the corners of his tightly closed eyes and his unbound hand clawing at any patch of my skin within its reach. Still, I managed to repeatedly strike the coil of nerves within him, his body giving reluctant shivers of pleasure as he began to relax around me, his grasp easing and moving to brace himself on the building in front of him.

"Too rough, Shiki, too rough," he whined in an increasingly ragged voice, his words nearly imperceptible between our moans and panting breaths. "Shiki, enough, please."

I could tell that he wanted to fight back, to preserve the fragments of his shattered dignity, but his body refused to move, crushed beneath the smothering pain and excessive sensory stimulus caused by my assault. Kissing his neck gently, I saw his digits curl into the wall as I spoke, the wet, gritty brick dust accumulating beneath his short fingernails as he clutched to it desperately. "Has your defiance been successfully quelled, pet?" Akira nodded violently, words no longer capable of expressing any coherent thought. "That's very good, shall I let you come as a reward?"

"Shiki, I… I want…" he mumbled, struggling to compose himself, "I want to see you. Let me see you, please. Please."

The raspy request caught me by surprise, my hips stilling as I considered his words carefully. "Very well," I murmured against the heated skin of his neck, pulling free of him and allowing him to turn to face me, admiring the wanton beauty of his lusty gaze and the blush that colored his cheeks. Lifting him and pinning him against the wall with my weight, his arms snaked around my neck and back, clinging to me desperately when I entered him again, his lips seeking mine with urgency as we drew closer to climax. My tongue was tangled with his as he came, the vibrations of his moans teasing my lips erotically and pulling me into the blissful oblivion of orgasm along with him. We remained entwined as we panted through our high, clutching each other while the oppressing fog of arousal faded from our minds, dissipating in a flurry of sighs and stray sporadic kisses. Carefully returning him to his feet, I attempted to clean him and redress us both, but he was clearly overcome with exhaustion and struggled to bear his own weight, rather slouching numbly against the wall behind him.

"Shiki, you were too rough," he whimpered softly, "you were too rough and it hurt."

I flinched at his words and defeated tone, tugging him into my arms with as much gentleness as I could manage and turning to leave the suppressing darkness of the alley, carrying him like a child. "Yes," I responded weakly, "yes, Akira, I know."

He merely nodded as he nuzzled into my chest, grey fringe falling across his face as he mumbled incoherent phrases that sounded vaguely like, "It's okay." I damned myself for the hundredth time that day, cursing the weakness that he coaxed from me, spitefully acknowledging that this beautiful man with arrogant eyes was able to draw forth emotions that I had long ago killed and buried. I hated him for it, but I refused to let him go; and I found this realization to be immensely infuriating as my façade began to crumble with little hope of recovery.

Damn him. Damn him for doing this. For awakening this revolting complacency that I had thought to be long deceased. This grey-haired man was tearing me apart, and I despised him for having such power over me. Regardless of how effectively I managed to convince myself of my resentment towards the celestial creature that was dozing peacefully in my grasp, nothing could tear him from my arms and hope to survive the repercussions that would follow. If anyone dared to contest my ownership or take him from me, they would suffer the consequences of their impudence until they could do naught but beg for death.

Akira was mine. Mine.


	5. Fifth Encounter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I composed an alternate ending for Togainu no Chi, which means that I'll keep everyone fairly true-to-character, but I'm going to tweak some emotions and whatnot to suit my tastes. Since I haven't incorporated Arbitro or Nano into this story (since it was originally supposed to be a two-shot), I'm only going to lightly touch on their involvement in these final chapters, because the alternate ending truly only effects the outcome of the Shiki/Akira/Keisuke interactions. Anyway, enjoy! Meadie out.

Opening my eyes felt nearly as painful as the dull ache that claimed each bone and muscle through my being, the discomfort preventing me from noticing that my hair was damp from a bath and my wounded hand was freshly dressed. I couldn't remember the last time I had slept so deeply, so soundly, and my body was trying to coax me back into a nearly comatose state of rest, encouraging me to succumb to the rejuvenating darkness, and vaguely ensuring my instincts that there was a reason why it would be safe to do so. Lying on my side, the blankness of the wall in front of me provided so little stimulus that it was nearly impossible to not let my eyelids sink heavily shut, to not burrow deeply beneath the warmth of a blanket and the softness of a mattress. These comforts that seemed so foreign in Toshima felt delectable and exotic to me now, even though it had only been a matter of weeks since I had abandoned a place called home, where such things were commonplace. Despite the pleasant dizziness of impending sleep, the word home felt excessively blurry and equivocal, as if it never had any substantial context in my mind, which I suppose it didn't; the terms home and orphan always seemed to be mutually exclusive. But if I attempted to recall the fairytales of places called home that we heard in the orphanage, stories that had always filled Keisuke's eyes with delusional glimmers of hope, I suppose that they implied that home was supposed to feel like this place did: safe and happy and warm.

Ignoring my body's painful retaliation, I stretched out my joints, turning to lay on my right side as I nested contently against the source of such pleasant, unyielding heat. Opening my eyes yet again, I was startled when my gaze fell upon the broad expanse of pale, muscled shoulders, the unmarred skin completely bare save for the minor concealment provided by the blanket to which I so desperately clung.

"Shiki…."

Reaching my hand out slowly, I froze with my fingers mere centimeters from his back, some unnamed force of reluctance halting my movements for no apparent reason. Conquering whatever power had bred uncertainty in my mind, I placed my palm lightly between his shoulder blades, savoring the disparity between the heat that flowed into my hand and the icy appearance of his skin, which seemed to be sculpted lovingly from flawless marble. My touch caused a sharp intake of air to disrupt the perfect monotony of his sleeping breaths and his muscles grew taught, his entire body preparing for some assault that never came. Shiki was on his guard even as he slept, and I wondered how many times he had to experience such an attack so as to become this thoroughly conditioned in his reactions.

"Akira," he grumbled lowly, my name barely audible through the heavy sigh that he released as his body eased back into a relaxed state.

Jerking my hand back, I clutched it to my chest, automatically fearing any repercussions that would come as a result of waking Shiki from his slumber, but he said nothing and merely tugged the blanket that covered us until it concealed his bare shoulders. "I didn't mean to wake you up," I said quietly, thoroughly displeased with the meekness of my voice. Still he did not speak, and only hummed softly in some sort of ambiguous response.

Again I extended my hand so as to trace the subtle undulations of the musculature beneath his skin, and I was pleased that the contact only inspired a brief flinch, a motion so slight that it did not startle my hand into retreat. Instead I continued my exploration, memorizing every minute alteration in the topography of his body and remarking in awe of the fact that, despite the paleness of his flesh, his skin remained radiant and held no trace of sickly pallor. He truly was like the pictures in the dusty old tomes that we sometimes read as children, for lack of anything else to occupy our time. These books held images of sculptures which personified perfection, unchanging portraits that were crafted from marble centuries and centuries ago, so long ago that the lapse in time seemed nearly incomprehensible to our cloistered minds. The only flaw in the perfection that lie before me was the regrettable fact that Shiki would eventually change and age, though he likely assumed that his death would come soon enough, claiming him during the pinnacle of his youth. It seemed that, among people like Shiki, it was a broadly acknowledged fact that for some reason or another, their lives would be abruptly concluded at a young age, and they fully embraced such a fate.

Such melancholic musings were beginning to irk me, and in retaliation against the negativity of my thoughts, I burrowed against the back of the beautifully dangerous man beside me, attempting to wedge myself firmly between his side and the mattress below. Resting my forehead between his shoulder blades, the closeness of our bodies allowed me to feel each minute strain in the sinewy muscles and tendons that moved beneath his skin, even when a low chuckle rumbled in his chest. Irritated, I glanced up to find him looking over his shoulder at me with amusement, his eyes still gleaming despite the effect sleepiness had on diluting the intensity of his gaze. A small smile was tugging at the corners of his lips as he began to shift his position, turning onto his back and raising his left arm, encouraging me to lie against his torso and drape my legs over his while he firmly pulled my body closer in a comforting embrace. Shutting my eyes and nuzzling my cheek against the pale expanse of his chest, I melted against him as the surprisingly intense heat of his body soaked through the thin fabrics of my t-shirt and boxers, saturating me wholly as the warmth pooled around my heart. The sensation was strange, and I found that it was uncomfortable for the sole reason that I couldn't quite identify it, and that vagueness was extremely irritating. But as I coaxed my mind free of such analytical assessment, my subconscious latched onto a single word amongst the encroaching emptiness, a word that seemed to satisfy and quell my uncertainty: affection.

His chest rose and fell in a slow, easy rhythm, and it occurred to me that everything Shiki did was expertly measured and methodical; his breaths, the eerie echo of his boots on asphalt, his heartbeat, his kisses. Though he seemed wild and unpredictable to everyone else in Toshima, I was quickly discovering that his life, contrary to widely held belief, was carefully regimented and timed according to the ticking of a metronome that only he could hear. And the more time I spent with him, the more closely I became aligned to the relentless rhythm that dictated his every action. Regardless, though he was operating according to the regularity of the tempo to which he seemed to be shackled, I still couldn't foretell his actions themselves, only the timing by which they would occur. He was, after all, predictably unpredictable, and that fact made me both aroused and extremely uneasy.

He must have been able to sense that I had been staring at him blankly, as he cracked open one eye, looking down at me with an eyebrow raised questioningly, but I was unable to confront his gaze and attempted to conceal the irritated tint that bloomed across my cheeks. A deep chuckle rumbled through his chest, temporarily overpowering the steady rhythm of his heart, and I couldn't resist the urge to glance up at him again. If he seemed beautiful as he skated through the shadows of the Toshima streets dripping with blood not his own, in a moment such as this one he appeared entirely celestial.

"Shiki?" I asked softly, bracing myself as I prepared to pose a question to which I already knew the answer. The answer itself wasn't the cause of the anxiety coiling tightly in my chest, but rather his reaction to my inquiry.

He hummed his acknowledgement lowly, not even bothering to open his eyes.

Inhaling deeply, I attempted to steady my voice as I spoke. "You're Il-Re, aren't you?"

"What?" Shiki opened his eyes and sat up, propping himself on his elbows as he looked at me curiously, eyebrows knitting together tightly with confusion. Untangling myself from his body and shuddering at the loss of warmth, I knelt beside him, matching the intensity in his gaze with intensity of my own.

"I was sent to Toshima to kill you. And I know about Nano. And Project Nicole."

Sighing heavily, he fell back against the mattress, lazily folding his hands behind his head and closing his eyes, his apparent indifference to my statement beginning to irritate me immensely. "Very well informed, aren't you, Akira? I assumed as much."

"That's all you're going to say to the man that you shared a bed with, and who just told you that he is supposed to kill you? Shiki, you pompous son of a bitch…. I could have offed you in your sleep, you know." His lackadaisical response was starting to infuriate me beyond measure as I gritted my teeth and curled my fingers tightly into fists, barely attempting to restrain my desire to punch the bastard in the face.

"Well," he began casually, "killing me hasn't quite worked out for you yet, has it, pet?" The mocking smirk that was unzipping itself across his face was intensified as he again cracked open a single eye, the amused glint in his gaze taunting me heartlessly. "Plus, Akira, you don't really want to kill me, do you?"

He chuckled lightly as I glared at him, the calloused fingers of a surprisingly delicate hand reaching up to gently brush away the grey fringe that had fallen across my face and concealed my eyes. Placing his palm tenderly on the nape of my neck, he pulled me to him, urging me to lie down on his chest once again as he ran his digits down along my spine, his hand eventually slipping beneath my shirt, strong fingers kneading the muscles of my lower back. His easy ministrations made me relax heavily against his body, and I could feel the long-earned patches of rough skin that resulted from years of constant utilization of the same weapon as he caressed the unmarred skin on my back, and the sensation made me shiver.

"No," I muttered in response to his inquiry, the vibrations of my lips against his chest as I spoke made him give off a nearly imperceptible shudder, but he concealed it quickly and hummed his satisfaction at my statement. "And don't laugh at me, asshole."

Leaning up carefully, I startled him when I pressed a chaste kiss on the front of his throat, a silent apology for the marks that I had placed there with my fingernails the night before, the resulting streaks still angry and red against the paleness of his flesh. He mumbled my name as I deposited two more kisses beneath his ear and at the base of his strong jaw, the skin there feeling exceptionally warm and soft beneath my lips. A subtle smirk was forming on his face, and I pressed yet another kiss lightly on the corner of his upturned lips before retreating, nuzzling in the valley where his neck sloped gracefully into his well-toned shoulder, the muscle there taught and strong. Shiki's body felt solid and reliable as I attempted to entwine my body with his, savoring the closeness between our forms and pondering the fact that I was being held by the arms of the most dangerous thing I had ever encountered, a man who seemed nearly untouchable and invincible to everyone, save for myself. The realization gave me a smug sense of satisfaction, knowing that this advantage clearly declared my superiority over the rest of the men in Toshima; but I quickly dismissed the thought, remarking to myself that it sounded far too much like something Shiki would say.

Tilting his head slightly and encouraging me to cease my nesting against his shoulder, his lips ghosted over my cheekbone, scarcely remaining still long enough to consider the action to be a kiss. I responded obediently when he pushed me onto my back, leaning over me slowly so that he could capture my lips with his own as he moved to kneel between my legs, the sensation of the material of his pants against my nearly-bare thighs making me tremble. He sighed heavily when I wove my fingers into his glossy ebony hair, my nails kneading gently into the nape of his neck as I pulled him firmly into a kiss. Our lips moved slowly, delicately as they merged in near perfect unison, my tongue only grazing his softly as we maintained the tender sensuality of the connection. This kiss was wonderfully different from those before; it undeniably held the same intensity and urgency as the others, but the hastiness of the union was conspicuously absent this time, and I savored it greedily.

Shiki dipped his thumbs beneath the elastic of my boxers, his digits tracing the rigid protrusions of my hip bones in perfect symmetry before sliding his palms along my sides and waist, the movement of one hand always flawlessly mirroring the other. Reaching my chest, he aided me in removing my shirt, which was dropped carelessly to the dusty hardwood floor beside the bed that we currently occupied. His intense eyes skimmed every centimeter of my exposed body, and I saw him grimace slightly when his gaze froze abruptly on my right hip, the purple bruises from his grip acting as ugly reminders of the aggressiveness of his actions from the night before. Though his fingertips hovered just above the offending contusions, Shiki never touched them, as if he was afraid that any contact between himself and I, no matter how gentle, would damage me even further. Pulling him from his apparent stupor, I took his hands in my own and brought them to my mouth, allowing my lips to delicately trail over his knuckles in reassurance, which prompted him to lean in and meet me for a brief kiss.

I moaned quietly when he freed one of his hands from my grasp, letting it wander casually down to graze my growing arousal through the meager cotton of my boxers, causing my body to unconsciously buck my hips into his waiting palm. He stroked me tenderly for a while and I shuddered beneath his intoxicating touch, allowing my head to sink heavily into my pillow and my eyes wrenching shut as I bit into the flesh on the back of my hand, attempting everything in my power to suppress my groans. I was panting heavily when he pulled my hand away from my assaulting teeth, his tongue tracing the marks I had made on my skin before soothing the deep indentations with a light brush of his lips over the affected area. The look in his eyes made my breath catch in my throat when our gazes met; he was staring at me intensely and the piercing crimson orbs which usually seemed so sharp and analytical were foggy and subdued with lust. Yet the pulsing aura of his desire never lost its potency, rather it lacked the predatory force that generally accompanied being in such close contact with Shiki; and though he felt less dangerous, he was still exceptionally arousing.

"Don't hide from me, Akira," he purred into my ear as he lightly nipped at one of the many marks that he had branded me with before, "Let me hear you."

I writhed beneath him as I struggled desperately to conceal my gasps, which were ragged with the vibrato caused by my trembling body, but Shiki clucked his tongue in disappointment with my pitiful efforts. He pressed our palms together as he wove his fingers between mine, clutching my hand securely as his kisses strayed from my neck, trailing leisurely over my chest and down my stomach, and coming to rest above the dark splotches on my hip. His tongue caressed the bruises carefully in silent apology while his unoccupied hand brushed my arousal teasingly, his fingers scarcely touching me as my boxers were removed.

"Come now, pet. I said to let me hear you."

I conceded with a miniscule moan as his strong fingers massaged the muscle of my thigh and the shallow divot just below my hip, but gasped dramatically when his palm surrounded me fully, his thumb stroking the reactive skin softly. Placing my hand on his cheek, I pulled him to me for a kiss, our lips and tongues more aggressive than before, but the desperate sensuality of the connection never waned. His hand wandered again to my entrance, pressing a single finger into me gently, but the intrusion caused me to cry out and curl my fingers violently against his shoulder, clutching to him dearly. Removing himself carefully, he attempted to soothe me and kneaded comforting circles into my hips, urging my frantic breaths to slow as he gingerly kissed the tears from my eyes.

"Did I hurt you so badly?" he asked with a defeated tone, sighing heavily when I made no attempt to respond, merely averting my gaze as I turned my cheek to him. Resting his forehead against my bare chest, he lightly squeezed my hand, our entwined fingers latching themselves together even more forcefully, desperately. "Akira…. I'm sorry…."

My heart began to thrum painfully in my chest at the sound of those scarcely spoken words, and I wasn't entirely sure if they had actually spilled from Shiki's lips. "W—what?"

Raising his head slowly, his glare was just as powerful and threatening as it usually was when his gaze met mine, the frigid scrutiny causing me to swallow nervously and struggle to avoid his stare with little success. "I said it once, and I will not repeat myself. Am I understood?" I nodded silently and he sighed, his intensity beginning to dissipate once again as he brushed his lips against my temple. "Good."

He shifted his position wordlessly, grasping my arousal carefully as he lowered his lips, his tongue teasing me experimentally. I jolted and attempted to sit up in a panic, my eyes wide as I struggled in shoving him away and scrambling from beneath his grip. "Whoa! Shiki, what the fuck?! What are you doing?!"

Initially he glared at me quizzically, an eyebrow arching as he studied me carefully, contemplating the ideal response to counter my outburst. I was not comforted in the least when Shiki's signature smirk began to unzip across his face, a devious gleam flashing brightly in those unnerving crimson eyes. "I'm apologizing," he replied smugly.

"What?"

"I believe I already explained that I dislike to repeat myself."

"Umm," I hummed awkwardly, my mouth insisting on making some sort of response, but my mind refusing to form any comprehensible words.

"Then lie down, you fool. I'm not a patient or considerate man, and you are beginning to irritate me, Akira."

The sound of my name being spoken in that deep, sinful voice immediately demanded my compliance, and I settled back into the mattress hesitantly as I shuddered pleasantly beneath his scrutinizing gaze. He grasped my hips tightly when he took me into his mouth, my body retaliating against its restraints as my hips tried desperately to press further into the contact, seeking out the decadent warmth of his tongue as it coiled casually around my shaft. I whimpered slightly when he removed his lips completely, shushing me gently and rubbing tranquil circles into my hips, coaxing me to surrender in a soothing tone.

"Easy, Akira."

I nodded again, releasing a breath that I had been holding for such a long time that it felt as if the air had grown stale in my lungs. Still, I flinched as Shiki's mouth surrounded my length yet again, his head rising and falling rhythmically while he flattened his tongue, stroking the underside of my arousal expertly. He seemed to enjoy my struggle as I attempted to conceal the sounds of my pleasure, the stray moans and gasps that escaped my filter satisfied him immensely, and he would promptly repeat whatever movement had prompted the weak cry. Hollowing his cheeks, he took me deeply into his mouth, my length fully consumed as his tongue traced lazy patterns along my arousal, causing me to shudder and tremble with every change in the stimulus. I was entirely unprepared, however, for the sensation of his teeth as they were dragged gingerly over my tender skin.

Lurching forward, I couldn't suppress my dramatic gasp of surprise nor restrain my hands as they fisted his hair roughly, earning from him a displeased glare and a miniscule wince as I clutched to him desperately. Without ever abandoning his task, Shiki swatted my hands away and placed his palm gently on my stomach, the slight pressure coaxing me to lie back and ease into the mattress below, a silent command which I obeyed with only mild resistance. My hands continued to wander mindlessly, searching for purchase as his skillful lips drew me dangerously close to orgasm. Finally my hand was secured tightly by his own as his slender fingers wove into mine, and I allowed myself to relax slightly and close my eyes again, reveling in the decadent ache of my pleasure while I clutched onto him as I neared my peak.

My release bathed me in ecstasy, and I couldn't recall a time when the intensity of my satisfaction neared the seemingly unattainable level of pleasure that Shiki had given me. As I came, he calmly suppressed the bucking of my hips with a single strong hand while the other was entangled with my own, and I was vaguely aware of the violence of my grip, but he did nothing to wrench himself free or scold me. Swallowing everything I offered to him, he carefully cleaned me with his skillful tongue, ensuring that he remained wary of my lingering sensitivity as he trailed a series of kisses over my stomach and chest. He stopped briefly when he reached my throat, whisking away a small droplet of sweat that lingered there before resting his lips just below my jaw. After a moment, I felt the vibrations of a low chuckle against the skin there, and though the ragged heaving of my breaths entirely drowned the sound into oblivion, I remained aware and irritated by his amusement.

"The hell are you laughing at, bastard?" I panted, though my words were forced and choppy.

He hummed lightly before he responded, raising his gaze to meet mine and brushing a number of strands of wild grey hair away from my face. "I can feel how quickly your heart is beating. Your pulse is pounding in your throat."

Grumbling lowly, I turned my cheek to him to hide my rising blush, though my skin was so flushed with the heat of my release that such an insignificant addition of pink tint was entirely undetectable. I shot him another bitter glare as he chuckled again, shifting away from me momentarily before returning with my discarded boxers, sliding them gently over my legs and returning them to their resting place on my lean hips. Shiki sank back into the mattress, tugging my roughly on top of him and kissing me deeply, our tongues tying sensual knots as our lips struggled to maintain the connection despite the desperate screaming of our oxygen-deprived lungs.

Though I shut my eyes and rested my cheek heavily on the expanse of porcelain skin on his chest, I could easily hear the smirk in Shiki's voice when he spoke. "So how do you taste?" My eyes widened momentarily at the vulgarity of his inquiry, but I simply turned my surprise into a vicious scowl as I glared daggers at his smug, but exceptionally beautiful, face. He responded with a satisfied chuckle that resounded lowly in his chest, and I could feel the deep rumble of it as I rested heavily against him. We sat in comfortable silence for quite some time, my eyelids growing weighty with exhaustion while he kneaded powerful fingers into the tense sinews of muscle along my spine and shoulders. It seemed impossible that those hands, which had brought me so much pleasure and comfort had also taken countless lives without a drop of remorse, but for some reason I was not deterred. I was melting into his being, saturated in my overwhelming contentment, and though in the past I would have cursed myself for succumbing to this demon of a man, now I found that I was doing so with no reservation.

The gentle yet resolute kiss that Shiki placed on my forehead pulled me free from the seductive prospect of sleep, and he began to coax me further into awareness with soft mumbles of encouragement and prodding touches. "Come now, Akira, it's time to wake up," he chided in the silky voice that aroused me so easily. "We wouldn't want your…." he paused awkwardly, struggling with the remainder of his sentence, "companions to be worried, would we? After all, you did disappear with a mass murderer and remained missing for the duration of the night."

"Fuck off," I mumbled and snuggled against him more aggressively, hoping to adhere to his body and avoid returning to the hell of Toshima that awaited just outside of the comfort of these walls and Shiki's arms.

He sighed heavily, the sound tinted with the faint suggestion of a laugh as he attempted to pry me away from him as gently, yet effectively, as possible. "Up."

I rose and dressed reluctantly, and I could feel Shiki's gaze following my actions intensely, but I pretended not to notice for a while as I collected my things and yanked up the zipper of my coat. Finally I grew irritated with his scrutiny, and I turned to glower at him as I returned my dagger to the sheath strapped across my lower back. "Stop staring at me, it's creepy," I spat, but he did not respond, electing instead to tug his shirt and coat on with indifference before retrieving his katana from its resting place on a small table, and coolly striding towards the door. "I was talking to you, asshole," I hissed through gritted teeth, maintaining my glare as he glanced casually at me over his shoulder.

He smirked at me and closed his eyes, returning to my side so as to place a single chaste kiss on my temple. "So needy, Akira," he teased, ignoring my fuming scowl as he left, the door hinges groaning painfully as he stepped into the hallway and left in silence.

{{{Encounter}}}

Later, after wandering mindlessly through the labyrinth of Toshima for what seemed like days, I managed to stumble into the Neutral Zone hotel, cursing that bastard Shiki for leaving without giving me any hint as to where the hell I was. Upon my return, I was greeted by Motomi and nearly mugged by Rin, who gave me an extremely thorough scolding and a few unnecessary blows to the head as punishment for being a "suicidal dumb ass". Despite my searching, I was unable to determine Keisuke's presence in the lobby.

"Oh, Keisuke?" the slender blond responded when I inquired as to the lanky brunet's whereabouts, "he bolted too not long after you toted Shiki off. And I still want to know what the fuck happened, by the way. Anyway, he was determined to rescue you or some shit, so he grabbed one of my knives and hauled ass outta here." Rin pouted childishly, mumbling some dejected curses about his favorite blade and Keisuke's status as a thieving asshole.

"Any idea where he went?"

"'Dunno," Rin shrugged dismissively, "but you should probably go find him. We both know that he can't protect himself worth a damn and will probably get picked off pretty soon. If he hasn't been already."

"Lovin' the optimism, Rin," Motomi teased through his cloud of cigarette smoke.

Anger churned in the blond's cerulean eyes, but he merely huffed is disapproval and turned his back to the older man, folding his arms across his chest defiantly. "Anyway," Rin began, returning his attention to both me and the issue at hand, "you really should go hunt him down, Akira. Shit! I swear, you two are stressing me out so damn much that my hair is turning grey. No offense or whatever." He gestured obtusely at my unruly locks.

"Mine too!" Motomi interjected, earning yet another glare.

"Your hair is already turning grey, you old fuck!"

Determining that there was absolutely no other ways by which the bickering pair could assist me in my pursuit, I turned and left the hotel in silence, walking into the open air and sighing heavily with a frown. "Dammit. Toshima is fucking huge. How am I supposed to find you, Keisuke?" Choosing my only option, I began to walk blindly through the streets with no apparent plan of action, tossing wary glances down every alley and dingy side street. I was surprised that after a mere hour of searching, I saw a tall brunet donning a familiar pair of blue coveralls leaning casually against a wall just inside of a dimly-lit alley, his arms folded across his chest. When I called out to him, he raised his head slowly, meeting my gaze with a peculiar emotion in eyes that were usually a welcoming honey-brown, and his appearance was making me uneasy for reasons that I could not identify.

"Akira," he hummed, the sound of his voice entirely foreign to me. But as I attempted to back away, I suddenly felt his hand around my throat, the insane strength of his grip rendering me completely immobile when he forced my back roughly against a wall.

"What the fuck, Keisuke?" I hissed at the impact. Swearing and wincing at his aggressiveness, I began to panic when I reopened my eyes, my mind struggling to process the torrent of emotions that were glinting hectically in his gaze. The culmination of so much instability whittled down the possibilities concerning his current affliction, leaving only a single word by which to describe it: madness.

Keisuke pressed himself against me and lowered his lips to my neck before biting down so violently that I cried out, futilely attempting to free myself from his grip, only to find that he could resist my efforts at escape with ease. I clenched my eyes shut and held my breath as he tightened his hold on my throat, forcefully fondling my groin through my jeans, gripping firmly in an effort to make me whine, but was unsatisfied when I bit my lip. Angered by my resistance, he shoved his knee between my thighs so roughly that I could not suppress the pained yelp that his action inspired, and the sounds of my fearful discomfort seeming to encourage his arousal further.

"I've saved you this time, Akira, aren't you glad?" he hummed happily against the assaulted skin of my neck, causing me to grimace noticeably. "I'm gonna protect you. I'm gonna make you mine now. All mine. Mine mine mine."

"Keisuke, what the hell is wro—…" I swallowed the rest of my sentence when I reluctantly opened my eyes, attempting to glance over at his face as well as I could manage while restrained by his grip. The veins in his temple were pulsing violently, surging wildly with the toxic artificial adrenaline of Line. "No. Keisuke, no. Why would you-?" my voice was starting to tremble as badly as my body, and I remained frozen in his grasp, unable to conceive any possible means by which to salvage the situation and survive. I was hopelessly trapped like a rabbit in a snare, and all I could manage was to shut my eyes tightly and monitor my frantic breaths, all while silently pleading that he would elect to minimize my suffering and kill me quickly.

"Mine mine, Akira. Mine mine mine."


	6. Sixth Encounter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter! Yay! There is a sequel.... if I ever get around to working on it again (it's only 7k or so words in, so you guys can wait). However, before we get started, I figured that it might be a decent idea to give a brief refresher of the plot elements from the original game/manga/anime that will be alluded to in this chapter, but were not plainly discussed in the Encounter story line….
> 
> After the Third Division (World War III) Japan is divided into two opposing districts, the Japan Revival Union (Nikkouren) to the west and CFC to the east, with Toshima, formerly the Japanese capital Tokyo, as the no-man's-land that divides them. With the escalating tensions between them and the increasingly overpowering influence of Vischio as a force of defiance against the unstable governing bodies of both nations (due to the excessive distribution of Line, and the civil unrest it inspires), war is instigated once again in Toshima in an effort to destroy Vischio and reclaim the territories to which each district deems it is entitled.
> 
> I think you know the rest. On to the final chapter! Tally ho! Meadie out.

There was unrest in the air, and I could feel it with every breath. It was suffocating and all too familiar, like being trapped between two encroaching storms, waiting for the inevitable collision of the rolling thunderheads that hover darkly on the horizon, but having no control over the speed of their arrival. That lack of influence over the events in which I would be involved had always disturbed me; considering that in every other aspect of my existence, it would always be me to whom leaders would willingly relinquish their authority out of fear. It was the same sickening sensation that I had experienced during the eerie silence of the battlefield, the tension that surrounded the clueless soldiers who crouched in the shadows, entirely unaware of the fact that they were merely fodder for the beast that was war. They were very much like livestock; it was as if they knew that there was some sort of impending catastrophe, but were entirely too stupid to figure out that the unease they felt was simply the prelude to their deaths. Like proverbial lambs to the slaughter.

I had been monitoring the encroaching CFC and Revival Union forces carefully, though it seemed that the commanders of each district's meager battalions were unaware of the fact that I knew well of their intentions, likely assuming that I was too preoccupied with Vischio to notice. But unlike those fools that declared themselves war heroes, who liked to pound their chests like apes and flash the unearned bars that adorned their uniforms, I was not so blind or negligent in my observations. My task was soon to be completed, as Nano would soon die by my hand, and upon the conclusion of our battle I would abandon Toshima without a second thought, since there were certainly no obligations binding me to this place. Also, I was not particularly inclined towards being caught in the crossfire of another pointless war which had no benefit for me, so I would simply leave. Those who were too ignorant to predict the inevitable outbreak of conflict on such a massive scale, such as that sleazy fool Arbitro and the rest of the Igura dogs, were no longer my concern and would soon be eradicated whilst they scrambled about in fear, clinging dearly to the unfounded hope of salvation. If one was too weak to become one's own salvation, then one deserved to die. There is no other person on this pitiful earth upon whom you can rely, only yourself; and solitude was the most efficient means by which to cultivate strength. And by this logic, all of the rats in Toshima were in need of prompt extermination. At least the impending war would manage to eliminate them more quickly, as it would take far too long to kill them all myself, or to wait for them to kill each other.

I am not a patient man, and efficiency is of the utmost importance in any successful venture.

However, there was an additional strain on the atmosphere surrounding Toshima. While the tension of looming war was unsettling and suffocating, I was familiar with that particular sensation; but another feeling was tying knots in my stomach, and I was perturbed even more by my inability to classify this aching uneasiness. Was it Akira? Glancing westward I squinted at the sinking sun, the final rays of light struggling desperately to maintain purchase on day, reluctant to secede from its place in the sky and surrender to the encroaching moon. I determined that the hour was approaching 1800, I dismissed the thought that Akira was the reason for my anxiety. After all, it had been mere hours since we had parted, and I was convinced that too little time had passed, deciding that he had not the time to manage to immerse himself in any especially dangerous circumstances. But my curiosity and concern had been sufficiently piqued, and resolved to find him and ensure his safety. The grey-haired beauty was indeed making me weak, yet I supposed that his allure was far too intense to avoid developing some sort of attachment to him; it was certain that no man could resist him entirely, so I mused that by comparison, I was likely the only one to have maintained my composure to this degree. Akira was tantalizing and decadent; the ultimate carnal sin.

Descending from my observation point high atop one of the tallest buildings in Toshima, which was remarkably small considering that the once regal towers of Tokyo had largely been demolished during the apex of the Third Divide, I returned to the level ground of the street. Without any particular destination, I set off blindly in my search, but my body seemed to be carrying me forward towards some specific location, as if my instincts were aware of something that I had yet to consciously discover. Eventually I found myself in a relatively unpopulated district southwest of the Neutral Zone, and it seemed eerie and odd that so few Igura dogs were taking residence here; considering the close proximity to the illusion of asylum cast by the hotel's presence. This place was too quiet, and I did not detect a single raging Line user or cowering specter fearfully darting amongst the shadows.

Everything became more apparent when I stumbled across the scene of a rather gruesome slaughter where no less than seven men had met their demise; the sight was excessively macabre even by my standards, as the kills seemed messy and sudden. The violence of it all was additionally amplified by the fact that none of the victims appeared to have any marks from the use of a blade, as if they were simply ripped apart and mauled by some beast. I was beginning to realize that my uneasiness was indeed founded, and not merely the result of an overactive imagination. Increasing my pace significantly, I allowed my legs to carry me thoughtlessly down various streets and alleys until the noises of struggle reached my ears, augmented eerily as it echoed and grew when it ricocheted between the constricting walls of two buildings and out into the open.

"Keisuke?!"

The sound of Akira's frantic voice had me sprinting around a corner and into a dingy alley, where my pet was bracing himself against a grimy brick wall, staring at a figure who was writhing on the ground. Quickly I recognized him as the same little wretch that Akira had prevented me from executing the night before in the Neutral Zone hotel, but regardless of how long I attempted to analyze the current situation, I still could not grasp what was occurring before me.

"Akira?" I inquired, my voice almost feeble as I struggled with my incomprehension.

"Shiki? Shiki! I don't know… he just… help, please! I…." his eyes were wide with panic as his gaze darted between me and his ailing companion, silently pleading for help. I walked to him cautiously, my scrutiny scarcely shifting from the man who was hissing in groaning in pain, clutching his throat desperately, and thrashing about like the body of a snake after its head has been severed. Akira clutched to my shirt urgently while I thrust the blade of my katana into the crumbling asphalt, and I saw the evidence of a vicious bite on his neck, blood still freshly flowing from the wound as I assessed its depth and severity, attempting and ultimately failing to calm him. "Keisuke… he took Line and something happened…he lost it and bit me and…." His sentence perished in his throat and his body stilled suddenly, gawking at me as if he had come to some earth-shattering conclusion.

Knitting my brows together tightly, I studied his expression carefully, waiting for him to do something, anything, besides standing there frozen and unresponsive. "Akira?"

"My blood," he mumbled, glancing back down to the brunet, whose convulsions had nearly ceased, "he took Line and then he tasted my blood. My blood counters Line. Shit… no…. I… I killed Keisuke." Trembling violently, he stumbled back against the wall behind him, the wall itself being the only thing that saved him from collapsing wholly to the ground as I attempted to grab him, his weight feeling exceptionally heavy in my arms. I tried to hold him carefully, but he made no motion to react as he continued to stare blankly, constantly repeating his previous utterance like a prayer and confession. Kneeling on the wet asphalt, I clutched him to my chest, stroking his hair softly and struggling to soothe him, though I truthfully did not know how; it had been many years since I had last felt compassion in any form, and it was a horrifying sensation that was worsened by my ignorance. I had never truly been comforted, and I soon discovered that the act of attempting to comfort another was impossibly difficult for someone as frigid as myself. This suffocating strain in the air around me, which threatened to crush me with its intensity, was an entirely foreign and painful burden on my consciousness, but I eventually acknowledged it as the feeling of uselessness. And I hated it wholeheartedly.

After a few moments, Akira began to respond again and he curled his fingers into my chest, gripping me tightly as if would be carried away by some current in his weakened state. Thankfully he closed his eyes, and though I could feel his tears soaking through my shirt and lightly dampening my chest, at least he relieved me from the additional strain of continuously attempting to avert his eyes from the corpse of the man behind me. Watching the increasing flow of tears as they carved salty trails down his cheeks was beginning to make me sick, but now was not the time to succumb to my growing weakness. I needed to get Akira away from this place, away from the lifeless body of the comrade that he was certain he had killed with no weapon aside from his very existence. It was growing dark and we needed to find asylum for the night, as Akira was far too delicate at present, considering that we would be leaving Toshima before the sun raised its head in the morning; I was entirely positive that war would ensue with the break of day. Placing a gentle kiss on his temple and swiping away the small rivers that poured from his eyes with my thumb, I collected him carefully in my grasp, preparing to leave with a heavy sigh.

"Mine."

My surprise momentarily stalled my reaction as I felt the presence of the brunet as he appeared behind me, fully prepared to slaughter me on site, the madness in his eyes more potent than that of the many Line users that I had cut down before. I struggled to comprehend what exactly had allowed a man who I was certain was deceased to rise again and resume his assault, but instinct smothered logic as my hand flew to the sheath at Akira's back, tearing free his dagger and countering the madman's attack. The concentration of Line in his system, accompanied by some wild force of determination, granted the boy incredible strength, and I had to release my grip on Akira in order to parry his blow.

"Mine mine mine mine mine."

Finally my boots were able to find sufficient purchase on the slick asphalt of the alley, and I managed to throw him away from me, causing him to stumble backwards awkwardly like a drunk. Line may very well increase the user's physical strength and speed, but one's coordination was often hindered by the drug and made it considerably more difficult for someone like this brunet, who lacked fighting experience, to maintain control of the body's enhanced power. However, the madness that a dose of Line could induce also greatly effected coherent thought and the ability of the user to read and counter the opponent's movements, and the fight would quickly become more like a battle with a beast rather than a man. Their attacks were aggressive, unfocused, and unrelenting.

When he lunged at me again, I allowed his own momentum and lack of balance to assist in my parry, managing to toss him to the ground with relative ease, and he hissed and bared his teeth when his head struck the asphalt. Dropping my knee heavily to his chest, I assessed him with disgust as he struggled and snapped at me like a rabid dog when I raised Akira's dagger to his throat.

"How dare you taint what is mine, wretch," I spat, and my threat seemed to return to him some semblance of humanity, but the animalistic ruthlessness of his glare remained.

"Shiki, no! Don't kill him! Don't kill Keisuke!" I sent Akira a bewildered glance, hoping that he'd repeat himself and prove that my ears had deceived me. "Don't kill him, Shiki! I know he's on Line right now, but he's still Keisuke! He'll come back!"

"Akira," I scolded him as gently as I could manage, "Keisuke is too far gone. He won't come back. He is nothing more than a beast now. Don't you see?"

He clenched his eyes closed tightly, shaking his head in persistent denial. "He's still Keisuke, he'll come back!"

"He just tried to kill us both! Or have you already forgotten?!"

Immediately regretting raising my voice, I attempted to apologize with my gaze, watching Akira carefully as he stared back at me, motionless. The brunet pinned beneath me had entirely ceased his writhing, and in my preoccupation with Akira, I scarcely noticed when he leaned up and latched his teeth onto my wrist, shaking violently and attempting to tear through muscle as well as skin, directly to the bone. His assault caused me to jerk back, my grip on the dagger in my hand faltering just long enough to allow him to clench it in his grasp, his fingers and palm curling tightly around the steel of the blade, entirely indifferent to the deep lacerations he earned. I steadied myself by throwing my arm back against the bricks, attempting to quickly rise from my crouched position and into a defensive stance, but the mongrel managed to clutch one of my ankles, yanking my leg from beneath me and causing my balance to waver and fail. Though I was able to fall to one knee and partially salvage my stance, the lanky brunet was able to lunge at me forcefully, fully intent on plunging Akira's dagger deeply into my throat. I was able to evade the blow, if only barely, and instead the blade sliced some of the muscle on my left shoulder before becoming firmly embedded in the wall behind me.

"Akira, go!"

Keisuke growled lowly as he attempted to free the knife from its prison among the bricks and mortar, entirely indifferent to the shouts that were spilling desperately from Akira's lips.

"Akira!" I commanded once again, "I said go, dammit!"

The sound of steel grating against stone became the only sound I was able to hear as the brunet tore the dagger loose from the wall and stabbed at me again, and I cursed myself for shutting my eyes as I dodged him again. I could feel the heat of blood as it sprayed across my face, though the adrenaline in my veins allowed me to disregard the pain that resulted from the second wound, which was shallow, but very near the first. The weight of Keisuke's body suddenly fell against me heavily, and as my eyes reopened, my gaze fell upon Akira as he wielded my katana effortlessly, all of his pleading cries aggressively silenced. A faint mist of gore partially obscured him from my sight as he cut down Keisuke with his own hand, a feral glare stretched across his blood-spattered face as he bared his teeth in anger; and I found the sight of my pet in such a state to be wickedly arousing.

Glancing at me momentarily, his scowl intensified as he shifted his view towards the now deceased boy who was slouched against my chest, and Akira scoffed before hissing a single word with a snarl. "Mine."

"Akira…."

His stare met mine as I called to him quietly, the delicious ferocity in those frigid eyes astounding me nearly as much as his actions, and it made me want to take him there in the alley, despite the overwhelming presence of grime and gore. I shifted carefully with a slight grimace of pain, freeing myself from Keisuke's lifeless body and taking my weapon away from Akira gently, slowly prying each of his fingers from the blade's hilt, the color returning to his fingers as I released his white-knuckled grasp. Shock was beginning to dull the fierceness of his expression, and he appeared to be astonished by his own actions as he stared blankly at the scene before him. Ignoring the nauseating pain that pulsed through every nerve in my body, I pulled him to me gingerly, dragging my thumb over the splashes of blood that were scattered across his cheeks, attempting to remove the gory blemishes from his face. His eyes were wide and glassy, looking at me in a trance-like state as he struggled to comprehend what he had done.

"That's Keisuke's blood, isn't it?" Akira asked as his gaze shifted down to my hand before rising again to latch onto my own. "I really killed him this time, didn't I?" I desperately wanted to avoid responding, but his expression was begging me to address his inquiry. I nodded once in silence and he hummed softly in acknowledgement, looking yet again to assess his work as tears began to tumble down his cheeks, and it pained to see him this way.

"Come along, Akira," I coaxed quietly, collecting our weapons and prodding him gently, I urged him away from the alley and into the open street, where I intended to locate a place for us to stay the night and recover. There was large apartment complex a few blocks to the east, and Akira followed me obediently as I climbed several flights of stairs, quickly finding a room suited to our needs and ushering him inside. He was still in some sort of shock-induced trance as I led him to the bathroom, washed him clean of Keisuke's blood, and settled him into the bed, where he promptly fell asleep, drained of his energy by the relentless pulsing of adrenaline in his body. I brushed a few stray strands of grey hair from his eyes and pressed my lips gingerly to his temple before grabbing my katana and returning to the darkened Toshima streets.

{{{Encounter}}}

When I returned several hours later, Akira was still sleeping soundly, having scarcely moved at all. Setting my katana on a small table and shrugging free of my coat, I sat heavily on the edge of the bed, glancing over my shoulder at the man who was curled tightly in the light blanket that covered him as he calmly dozed beside me. He seemed so radiant and innocent as he slept, and I was awed by the fact that he was even more beautiful in this moment than in any other, something that seemed nearly impossible. I set my hand against his cheek and lightly trailed my thumb over his cheekbone, carefully erasing the persistent salty lines that marked his face, remnants of the thousands of tears he had shed earlier that evening. As I shooed his unruly fringe away from his eyes he began to stir, blinking at me slowly and attempting to get his bearings as if he was lost; the excitement from the day's events had exhausted him mentally and physically, and it was easily seen in his sluggish movements and dazed demeanor. Turning away from him, I could feel him shifting on the mattress as he knelt behind me, his arms wrapping around me while he pressed his chest to my back, nuzzling his cheek against my neck with a heavy sigh.

"Whose blood are you wearing, Shiki?" he questioned quietly, grazing my jaw softly with his lips.

"Nano is dead," I replied flatly, though the fatigue in my tone was apparent, "I took in his blood."

Akira tensed at my words, his arms tightening violently around my shoulders, "You survived?"

"Obviously."

He climbed from the bed, kneeling between my legs and staring at me strangely, his brows knitted together in some bizarre blending of emotions that I could not identify. "Is that why your shoulder and hand are healed? Because of Nano's blood?"

"Yes."

"You could have died. You would've left me here alone, Shiki."

My eyes met his and I could feel a frown tugging lightly on the edges of my lips, but I soon felt the warmth of his hands on my cheeks as he gently pulled me down for a kiss that was chaste and slow, neither of our lips parted, and our tongues did not seek the touch of the other's. As the kiss broke, I could feel his forehead rest against mine, his lithe fingers sneaking away to knead easy circles into the nape of my neck and curl into my hair, scratching lightly into my scalp. I made no effort to suppress my moan, which was partially drowned by the heavy sigh that spilled from my lips, and Akira hummed contentedly at my reaction.

Soon he was rising from the floor to his feet, pulling me from the bed and into the bathroom where he started the shower, steam spilling gracefully into the chilly air, making me shiver at the contrast. Akira began to undress us both, pressing soft kisses along each patch of my freshly revealed skin before coaxing me to step beneath the steady stream of water that was pounding heavily on my flesh, blood not my own swirling towards the drain in lightly tinted coils. Pressing himself against me tightly, he trailed his fingers over the places where Keisuke had cut me, only pale red scars the remaining evidence of the encounter that had shaken us so deeply to the core. He massaged my muscles with care, rubbing away stress and gore as he slowly explored my body, mapping each centimeter like a cartographer before committing it to memory. His touches were intoxicating, and I allowed my eyelids to drift shut, focusing entirely on the sensation of his lips and fingers ghosting gently across my skin. When he laid his lips on mine, his tongue grazed over them softly, encouraging my tongue to do the same as they danced together sensually, brushing against each other delicately with fleeting blows. I grasped his face in my hands as I kissed him more deeply, pulling him to me desperately while my fingers wove together at the base of his skull, tangling in the grey fringe that was dripping heavily with the water, large droplets clinging to the tips of the strands.

"You wouldn't leave me, would you Shiki?" he asked quietly, his words vibrating against my lips as he spoke in a deep, lusty voice.

I pulled him into an embrace, wrapping my body tightly around his smaller frame and resting my chin on his head, feeling him tug me closer as his arms encircled my waist. "No, Akira. I wouldn't leave you. You're mine, remember?"

He was smiling against my chest as he hummed in satisfaction, clutching onto me as if I might vanish with the steam that churned about us in the confined space of the shower. Without lifting his head, Akira mumbled lowly into the bend between my neck and freshly healed shoulder, "Shiki, fuck me."

"As you wish, pet," I responded, a deep chuckle tinting the tone of my voice with amusement.

I gestured for him to face the wall, and he recoiled slightly at the touch of frigid tile against his palms, hissing slightly at the cold. Akira glanced over his shoulder at me nervously, obviously recalling the way that I forcefully took him in the Neutral Zone the night before, when he was roughly pinned to the wall in a position exactly like this one. Leaning over him to place a gentle kiss on his neck, I slowly rubbed circles along his spine as I wordlessly urged him to relax, but he still jolted anxiously as my free hand slid over his hip and to his entrance. One of his hands tore away from the shower wall, grasping mine in reluctance, his confidence beginning to waver. I peeled his hand away carefully, freeing my hands to rub over the unmarred flesh of his back soothingly as I leaned over again to deposit another kiss on his neck, just above the ugly mark left by Keisuke's teeth. As I began to trace my tongue over the angry wound, Akira shoved me away roughly and I stepped back in surprise, hissing and grinding my teeth when my shoulders struck the icy ceramic tile behind me. Before I could scold him, he clutched my hands tightly, concern and fear painted over his angular features.

"Shiki, no. You can't ingest my blood now, remember? Your blood is 100% Line."

He seemed relieved as my expression softened significantly and I nodded my consent, kissing his temple and waving for him to face the wall yet again. My hands resumed their previous tasks, and I carefully pressed one finger into his entrance, cooing comforting words of encouragement when he tensed briefly at the intrusion.

"Akira…." I purred into his ear, making him shudder, "Do you trust me?" He nodded weakly in response to my inquiry. "Do you believe that I won't hurt you?" Receiving his approval with another silent nod, I added another finger, quickly locating the knot of nerves inside him and dragging my digits over the spot, which made his legs quake as he attempted to save himself from his buckling knees. I wrapped my unoccupied arm around his waist, supporting him as he jolted when I grazed his prostate again, extracting a loud, shameless moan from between his lips. Soon I included a final finger and continued my assault on his sweet spot, sadistically enjoying each pleading moan and beg for more for several more minutes, before removing my digits from him carefully. "Are you ready, Akira?"

He sighed heavily before giving his consent, attempting to calm his volatile nerves. "Yes, but be gentle, please."

"Of course," I guaranteed, kissing the small ridge between his shoulder blades as I carefully pressed my arousal into him, stilling the movement of my hips for each miniscule flinch and whimper, determined not to break my promise. After several moments, I was able to begin thrusting into him slowly, striking his prostate repeatedly, making us both moan and cry out in unison at the decadent ache of our escalating pleasure. Flattening my palms against the backs of his hands, I wove our fingers together and pulled him away from the wall, encouraging him to stand as I placed our entwined right hands lightly on his left cheek, turning his head so that I could claim a greedy kiss. Our lips scarcely parted, separating for only brief instances to accommodate stray moans and our lungs' screaming demands for air.

We were both growing nearer to release, and I wanted Akira to savor every moment of his orgasm, to allow him momentary relief from the crushing weight of his conscience, even if for a mere instant. So I guided our unoccupied hands to his arousal, his grip on his length wholly encased in my own as I conducted him in stroking himself, mumbling encouraging whispers against his lips between kisses. He clenched his eyes shut tightly and moaned breathy cries of my name into my mouth when he came, his body shaking violently as his lithe fingers tightened viciously around my own, his teeth biting my lip roughly. Akira's climax served as the catalyst for my release, and we both emptied ourselves fully while clinging to each other dearly, sharing rogue kisses and moans between panting breaths during the blissful descent from our highs.

Entirely spent, I removed myself from him carefully, though I refused to relinquish my hold on his hands as I embraced him tightly, his weight leaning against my chest for support and his head falling back on my shoulder. His eyes were closed as I nuzzled into his neck, appearing celestial in his peace, the delicate blush of exertion tinting his cheeks with a healthy, angelic glow. Nothing could possibly tear him from me in this moment, and I dusted his neck and shoulder with heavy, messy, possessive kisses, all the while wishing that I could absorb his radiant perfection into myself so that we'd never part.

"Never leave me, Shiki. Never leave me alone. I'm begging you. Please. I can't lose anyone else. I can never lose you." Akira's voice was weak and desperate, and the sound of those pleading words tore painfully at my chest, making me nauseous. I was nearly certain that there were tears mingling among the water droplets that poured over us from the shower, which had become quite cold, but the decadent heat that we shared did not permit us to notice.

"Never."

"Promise?"

"Promise," I assured, placing a resolute, yet gentle kiss on his temple as if making a vow.

Though I released one of his hands reluctantly, I kept the other tightly tangled with my own as I turned off the tap, shivering when the cold air harshly reminded me of how cold the water had become during our shower. Conveniently, the former residents of the apartment we had claimed were in such a rush to flee from this warzone that the left nearly all of their belongings behind, and I was able to locate clothing and linens to use. I was certainly not going to make Akira wear the clothes that were splattered with the blood of the comrade he had killed, so after a bit of rummaging, I was able to outfit my pet in fresh garments.

While Akira redressed himself, I occupied myself with glaring out of the grimy apartment windows, and I could sense the impending conflict, much like the way one can smell a storm in the thickness of the air. The resounding crack of stray rifle fire echoing between the dilapidated structures that lined the Toshima streets provided me with an unpleasant since of nostalgia, and it caused a frown to pull at my lips. Gunfire, despite the mountains of unpleasant memories that accompany it, was comforting in an odd sense; clearly not due to any fondness I have for the sound, but the familiarity of it spanned so many years of my existence that the absence of the sound is unsettling.

"What's going on out there?" Akira questioned calmly, molding himself to my back and wrapping his arms around my waist, his cheek resting between my shoulder blades. I knew that he had his eyes closed with contentment, and I nearly laughed at his behavior; the majority of people could not fathom feeling that way while the threat of war is within earshot.

"It has been quite a long time since I have last heard gunfire, pet." He merely hummed ambiguously and I couldn't suppress the smirk that teased my lips. "Come along, Akira, the sun will rise in a few hours and we must move quickly. With daybreak comes war."

Akira refused to release my waist, clinging to me tightly in defiance. Peeling his arms free, I turned to face him and gave him a soft kiss; but soon our lips were parting and our tongues entwining, teeth and hands and nails causing the innocence of the kiss to perish quickly. At last I was able to quell his advances, chuckling into the receding kiss as he retaliated against the loss of contact, his teeth sinking harshly into my lip. Brushing wild grey fringe away from his face, I dusted a few light kisses along his temple before pulling him closer and resting my forehead against his, eyes closed.

"Shiki?" he asked quietly, but I only hummed in response, "Where are we going?"

"Where ever you want to go."

"Together?"

"Yes."

"And you won't leave me?"

"Never."

"Promise?"

"Promise."


End file.
